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•  —  '      _i     _i     _j       —  i       -  1  -  x  ----       —  i     ^j     _j    _j  '      -_^^ 


LIVES    AND    PORTRAITS 


OP  THE 


PRESIDENTS 


OF   THE 


is    owson. 


THE     BIOGRAPHIES, 

BY   EVERT   A.    DUYCKINCK, 

•I 

Author  of  the  " History  of  the  War  for  the  Union"  "  Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature"  etc., 


c- 
THE     PORTRAITS, 

BY   ALONZO   CHAPPEL, 

From    Original  Likenesses  obtained  from  (he  most  Authentic  Sources. 


NEW  YORK: 
JOHNSON,    FRY    AND    COMPANY, 

27    BEEKMAN    STREET. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

JOHNSON,    FRY    &    COMPANY,  0 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  Distnct  of  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


THE  narratives  of  the  Lives  of  THE  PRESIDENTS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  "will 
ever  nll'onl  an  interesting  and  profitable  subject  of  study;  and  this  not  merely 
from  their  elevated  position  ranking  them  as  rulers  with  contemporary  kings, 
emperors,  and  others  in  chief  authority ;  but,  as  representatives  of  a  distinct  and 
peculiar  social  and  political  organization.  The  hereditary  sovereigns  of  Europe, 
succeeding  one  another  by  a  fixed  and  absolute  decree ;  educated  for  their  p<><i- 
tion  and  following,  for  the  most  part,  through  life  a  uniform  routine  of  etiquette 
and  State  policy,  are  spoken  of  in  relation  to  families  and  dynasties;  nor  do  they 
always  represent  the  nationality  of  the  countries  over  which  they  rule.  They 
may  be,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Hanover  line  in  England,  taken  from  a  foreign 
country,  or  as  in  Greece  of  the  present  day,  chosen  from  other  countries  in  obedi 
ence  to  a  real  or  supposed  political  .necessity  of  European  State  craft.  They  may 
be  weak  or  able,  virtuous  or  vicious,  according  to  their  capacity  or  individual 
tendencies,  without  the  nation  over  which  they  rule  being  particularly  honored 
in  the  one  case  or  held  responsible  in  the  other.  Not  so  in  the  United  States. 
Here  the  CHIEF  MAGISTRATE,  as  it  is,  our  glory  to  call  the  presiding  officer  at  the 
head  of  our  system  of  government,  being  chosen  by  the  people  at  short  intervals, 
the  nation  becomes  directly  responsible  for  his  intelligence  and  virtue.  The  pre 
judices  of  party,  the  accidents  of  political  intrigue,  occasional  deference  to  what 
is  termed  expediency,  may,  indeed,  direct  the  election  so  that  the  successful  candi 
date  may  fall  short,  as  a  representative  man,  of  the  character  of  the  people  in  its 
highest  and  best  development.  It  is  by  no  means  to  be  expected  that  the  best 
adapted  or  qualified  man  will  be  chosen  every  four  years  to  the  Presidency.  In 
all  human  affairs  it  frequently  happens  that  the  right  man  is  not  in  the  ri^ht 
place.  But  generally  speaking,  making  due  allowance  for  inevitable  exceptions, 
the  country  may  be  rightfully  judged  by  the  character  of  the  man  deliberately 
chosen  by  the  people  to  the  post  of  highest  authority.  If,  for  insane.-,  an  a\<>\ved 


3:   342 


iv  PREFACE. 


infidel,  or  a  corrupt  man  in  morals,  or  one  dishonest,  wanting  integrity  in  the 
every-day  affairs  of  life,  were  to  be  elected,  the  nation  would  be  directly  humili 
ated.  It  would  be  held  up  to  reproach,  and  deservedly  so,  throughout  Christen 
dom.  If,  on  the  contrary,  the  list  of  Presidents  shall  continue  to  show  men  of 
sound  moral  character  and  a  high  average  of  intellect,  the  country  will  be  honored 
in  its  representatives. 

How  much,  for  instance,  at  the  start  was  done  for  us  as  a  people  by  the  choice 
of  WASHINGTON  as  our  great  leader,  "  First  in  War,  First  in  Peace,  and  First  in  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen."  The  nation,  after  more  than  half  a  century  since  his 
death,  may  be  said,  in  a  measure,  to  be  living  on  his  virtues.  He,  more  than  any 
other  hero,  "  without  fear  or  reproach,"  by  the  purity  of  his  life  and  the  devotion 
of  his  whole  nature  to  public  affairs,  raised  the  land  at  once  to  a  "  respectable  " 
position,  as  he  was  accustomed  modestly  to  say,  among  the  nations  of  the  world. 
His  example  has  reacted  upon  the  people  whom  he  was  called  to  represent,  and 
doubtless  on  innumerable  occasions  has  brightened  the  flame  of  patriotism  and 
public  virtue.  Every  statesman,  and  especially  every  President,  must  feel  himself 
called  upon  to  follow  and  privileged  in  following  in  his  footsteps. 

Nor  does  the  example  of  WASHINGTON  stand  alone  in  our  review  of  the  Presi 
dents.  The  ADAMSES  occupy  a  lofty  position  in  our  national  history,  in  their  pri 
vate  virtues,  their  devoted  patriotism,  and  independence  of  character.  In  JEFFEK- 
SON  the  nation  had  not  only  a  ruler  of  consummate  ability,  but  a  student  and 
philosopher,  and  a  controlling  mind  among  the  great  men  of  his  century.  The 
great  name  of  MADISON  is  identified  with  the  foundation  of  our  liberties  in  the 
origin  and  adoption  of  the  Constitution.  The  strength  and  manliness  of  JACKSON, 
equally  illustrated  in  military  and  political  life,  have  left  their  example  to  invigor 
ate  the  national  policy  of  our  own  times.  /The  fame  of  LINCOLN,  consecrated  by 
martyrdom,  will  be  transmitted  to  posterity  with  an  enduring  lesson  of  public 
virtues,  patriotic  devotion,  heartfelt  love  of  liberty  and  magnanimity  in  the  exer 
cise  of  power,  j  Others  on  the  brief  list  have  their  high  and  enduring  claims  to 
respect.  They  have  not  been  all  of  equal  eminence,  but  this  could  hardly  be  ex 
pected.  What  was  to  be  demanded  and  what  has  been  rendered  was  a  fair  share 
of  intelligence  with  a  fair  share  of  virtue. 

In  the  ensuing  pages  the  lives  of  the  seventeen  incumbents  who,  up  to  this  time 
have  held  the  Presidency,  are  narrated.  As  a  simple  record  of  biography,  the 
story  is  interesting  in  its  variety  of  personal  details.  As  an  incentive  to  patriot 
ism  in  a  period  more  than  ever  since  the  days  of  WASHINGTON  requiring  the  devo 
tion  of  the  citizen,  we  trust  that  it  is  not  without  its  useful  lesson. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  —GEORGE  WASHINGTON 7 

II.  —JOHN  A 1  >  A  M  S 35 

III      —  Tl  1( >M AS    JEFFERSON 45 

IV.  —  .IAMKS  MADISON 63 

V.  —  JAMES  MONROE 71 

VI.  —JOHN  lil'INCY  ADAMS 81 

VII.  _AM >UK\Y    JACKSON 92 

Mil.  —  MARTIN*  VAN  BUREN   120 

IX.  —WILLIAM  HENRY  HARRISON 130 

X.  —  JOHN  TYLER 140 

XI.  —  JAMES  KNOX   POLK 147 

.XII.     —  ZACH ARY  TAYLOR   153 

X  '.  1 1.    —  M ILLARD  FILLMORE 1 69 

A  I V.   —  FRAXKLIN   PIERCE 175 

XV.  —  JAMKS   BUCHANAN 's? 

XVI.  —ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 191 

X  VIL  —  A  X  D II E  W  J  0 1 1 N  SON 2  o  3 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


WASHINGTON  Invixu  commences  his 
life  of  George  Washington  with  a 
genealogical  chapter  tracing  the  anti 
quity  of  his  family  to  tin*  eleventh  cen 
tury.  Though  the  transcendent  merit 
of  his  hero  little  needs  this  blazonry, 
which,  as  he  himself  intimated  on  one 
occasion,  his  occupation  in  active  busi 
ness  had  given  him  no  time  to  ferret 
out,  yet  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  it  is 
quite  in  harmony  with  the  character  of 
Washington,  that  his  family  should  be 
traced  through  an  ancient  and  honor 
able  descent.  lie  is  placed  in  history 
as  a  connecting  link  between  too  great 
eras  of  civilization,  and  it  is  important 
to  know  that  the  goodly  tree  of  his  fail- 
fame  has  its  roots  in  the  one,  while  it 
extends  its  widely  spread,  still  growing 
branches  into  the  other.  He  certainly 
would  be  less  a  representative  man 
were  his  origin  unknown,  or  had  he 
just  arrived,  a  chance  comer,  to  do  his 
work  of  revolutionizing  a  nation.  On 
the  contraiy,  he  was  especially  fitted 
for  his  great  employment  by  the  place 
of  his  birth,  leaning  fondly  on  the 
parent  countiy  as  the  Old  Dominion,  the 
estates  and  institutions  by  which  he 
was  surrounded,  and  the  recollections 
of  an  elder  time  which  these  circum 
stances  implied.  In  supplying  these 
traditions,  Mr.  Irving  carries  us  back  to 


the  picturesque  era  of  the  early  days  of 
the  Plantagenets,  when  the  DeWessyng 
tons  did  manorial  service  in  tlie  battle 
and  the  chase,  to  the  military  Hi-hop 
of  Durham.  Following  these  spirited 
scenes  through  the  fourteenth  century 
to  the  fifteenth,  we  have  a  glimpse 
of  John  tie  Wessyngton,  a  stout,  contro 
versial  abbot  attached  to  the  cathedral 
After  him,  we  are  called  upon  to  trace 
the  family  in  the  various  parts  of  Eng 
land,  and  particularly  in  its  branch  of 
Washingtons — for  so  the  spelling  of  the 
name  had  now  become  determined — at 
Sulgrave,  in  Northamptonshire.  They 
were  loyalists  in  the  Cromwellian  era, 
when  Sir  Henry  gained  renown  by  his 
defence  of  Worcester.  While  this  event 
was  quite  recent,  two  brothers  of  the 
race,  John  and  Lawrence,  emigrated  to 
Virginia  in  1657,  and  established  them 
selves  as  planters,  in  Westmoreland 
county,  bordering  on  the  Potomac  and 
Rappahannoek,  in  the  midst  of  a  dis 
trict  destined  to  produce  many  eminent 
men  for  the  service  of  a  State  then 
undreamt  of.  One  of  these  brothers, 
John,  a  colonel  in  the  Virginia  service, 
was  the  grandfather  of  Augustine, 
who  married  Mary  Ball,  the  belle  of 
the  county,  and  became  the  parent  of 
George  Washington.  The  family  home 
was  on  Bridges'  Creek,  near  the  banks 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


of  the  Potomac,  where,  the  oldest  of  six 
children  by  this  second  marriage  of  his 
father,  the  illustrious  subject  of  our 
sketch  was  born  on  the  twenty-second 
of  February,  1732. 

Augustine  Washington  was  the  own 
er  of  several  estates  in  this  region  of 
the  two  rivers,  to  one  of  which,  on  the 
Rappahannock,  in  Stafford  County,  he 
removed  shortly  after  his  son's  birth, 
and  there  the  boy  received  his  first  im 
pressions.  He  was  not  destined  to  be 
much  indebted  to  schools  or  school-mas 
ters.  His  father,  indeed,  was  not  in 
sensible  to  the  advantages  of  education, 
since,  according  to  the  custom  of  those 
days  with  wealthy  planters,  he  had 
sent  Lawrence,  his  oldest  son  by  his 
previous  marriage,  to  be  educated  in 
England ;  an  opportunity  which  was  not 
given  him  in  the  case  of  George ;  for 
before  the  boy  was  of  an  age  to  leave 
home  on  such  a  journey,  the  father  was 
suddenly  taken  out  of  the  world  by  an 
attack  of  gout.  This  event  happened 
in  April,  1743,  when  George  was  left  to 
the  guardianship  of  his  mother.  The 
honest  merits  of  Mary,  "  the  mother  of 
Washington,"  have  often  been  matters- 

o         / 

of  comment.  All  that  is  preserved  of 
this  lady,  who  survived  her  husband 
forty-six  years,  and  of  course  lived  to 
witness  the  matured  triumphs  of  her 
son — he  was  seated  in  the  Presidential 
chair  when  she  died — bears  witness  to 
her  good  sense  and  simplicity,  the 
plainness  and  sincerity  of  her  house 
hold  virtues. 

The  domestic  instruction  of  Wash 
ington  was  of  the  best  and  purest.  He 
had  been  early  indoctrinated  in  the 
rudiments  of  learning,  in  the  "field 


school,"  by  a  village  pedagogue,  named 
Hobby,  one  of  his  father's  tenants,  who 
joined  to  his  afflictive  calling  the  more 
melancholy  profession  of  sexton — a 
shabby  member  of  the  race  of  instruc 
tors,  who  in  his  old  age  kept  up  the 
association  by  getting  patriotically  fud 
dled  on  his  pupils'  birth-days.  The 
boy  could  have  learnt  little  there  which 
was  not  better  taught  at  home.  Indeed 
we  find  his  mother  inculcating  the  best 
precepts.  In  addition  to  the  Scriptures 
and  the  lessons  of  the  Church,  which 
always  form  the  most  important  part 
of  such  a  child's  education,  she  had  a 
book  of  excellent  wisdom,  as  the 
event  proved,  especially  suitable  for  the 
guidance  of  her  son's  future  life,  in 
Sir  Matthew  Hale's  "Contemplations, 
Moral  and  Divine  " — a  book  written  by 
one  who  had  attained  high  public  dis 
tinction,  and  who  tells  the  secret  of  his 
worth  and  success.  The  very  volume 
out  of  which  Washington  was  thus 
taught  by  his  mother  is  preserved  at 
Mount  Vernon.  He  had,  however,  some 
limited  school  instruction  with  a  Mr. 
Williams,  whom  he  attended  from  his 
half  brother,  Augustine's,  home,  in  West 
moreland,  and  from  whom  he  learnt  a 
knowledge  of  accounts,  in  which  he  was 
always  skilful.  His  ciphering  book, 
neatly  written  out,  may  be  seen  among 
other  relics  of  his  early  years,  in  the 
public  archives  at  Washington.  An 
other  juvenile  note-book  of  this  time, 
penned  when  he  was  thirteen,  contains 
not  only  forms  of  business,  as  bonds, 
leases,  and  the  like,  but  copies  of  verses 
and  "Kules  of  Behavior  in  Company 
and  Conversation,"  full  of  homely  prac 
tical  wisdom  of  the  Benjamin  Franklin 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


pattern.  Some  lines  on  "True  Happi 
ness"  recite,  among  other  beneiiN, 

those   of 

"  A  merry  night  without  much  drinking, 
A  happy  thought  without  much  thinking; 
Each  night  by  quick  sWp  made  short, 
A  will  to  bo  but  what  thou  art." 

The  "  Rules,"  one  hundred  and  ten 

in  number,  are  j)laiu,  sensible  maxims, 
e-Miimonplaee  enough,  some  of  them, 
but  not  the  less  valuable  ;  minor  moral 
ities  \vhieh  add  to  the  comfort  as  well 

as  the  greatness  of  life,  form  the  gentle 
man,  and  assist  the  Christian.  Wash 
ington,  who  was  ever  sedulously  obser- 
rant  of  all  matters  of  good  conduct 
and  lii'^h  principle,  may  well  be  studied 
in  this  elementary  exercise  of  his  boy- 
ish  days.  lie  had  early  set  his  mind 
in  th  •->'  precepts  upon  kindness,  for 
bearance,  self-denial,  probity,  the  love 
of  justice.  The  youth  had  also  par 
ticular  instructions  from  Mr.  Williams 
in  geometry,  trigonometry,  and  survey 
ing,  in  which  he  became  an  adept,  writ 
ing  out  his  examples  in  the  neatest 
and  most  careful  manner.  This  was  a 
branch  of  instruction  more  important 
to  him  than  Latin  and  Greek,  of  which 
he  was  taught  nothing,  and  one  that  he 

O  O' 

turned  to  account  through  life.  All 
the  school  instruction  which  Washing 
ton  received  was  thus  completed  before 
he  was  sixteen. 

Nor  let  it  be  supposed  that  these 
sober  mathematical  calculations  con 
stituted  all  the  dreams  of  the  boy. 
lie  had  other  visions  of  a  softer  charac 
ter  in  the  charms  of  a  certain  lowland 
beauty,  to  whose  memory  some  love->iek 
rhymes  are  left  in  his  youthful  note- 


book.;.  It,  is  worth  mentioning,  this 
tender  susceptibility  of  one  who  \vas 
all  tenderness  within,  while  his  grave 
public  duties  so  long  conscientiously  re 
quired  him  to  present  an  iron  front  to 
the  world. 

lie  had,  however,  to  look  to  some 
practical  work  in  the  scant  condition 
of  his  fortunes,  and  we  find  him  early 
bent  upon  it.  While  he  was  yet  at 
school,  a  proposition  was  entertained 
by  himself  and  a  portion  of  his  family, 
which,  if  it  had  been  carried  out,  might 
have  seriously  affected  the  destinies  of 
America.  His  brother,  Lawrence,  four 
teen  years  his  senior,  had  served  a  few 
years  before  with  the  West  India  fleet 
of  Admiral  Vernon,  in  the  land  force  at 
the  siege  of  Carthagena,  and  in  honor 
of  his  commander,  gave  the  name 
Mount  Vernon  to  the  estate  on  the 
Potomac  which  he  inherited  from  his 
father.  He  was  now  marrjed  to  the 
daughter  of  a  neighboring  gentleman, 
William  Fairfax,  and  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  home  had  given  up  military  life; 
but  he  thought  well  of  the  foreign 

O  O 

service,  and  procured  a  midshipman's 

warrant  for  his  brother  George,  who, 
full  of  active  vigor,  with  a  boyish  taste 
for  war,  ea-vrly  desired  the  adventure. 
Little 'more  is  known  of  the  ail  air, 
beyond  his  mother's  earnest  final  inter 
position — she  had  given  her  consent  in 
the  first  instance — by  which  his 
majesty's  navy  lost  an  excellent  re 
cruit,  and  his  majesty's  dominions  half 
a  continent,  while  the  world  gained  a 
nation. 

On  leaving  school,  young  Washing 
ton  appears  to  have  taken  up  his  resi 
dence  with  his  brother  at  Mount 


10 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


Vernon,  where  lie  was  introduced  to 
new  social  influences  of  a  liberal 
character  in  the  family  society  of  the 
Fairfaxes.  Lawrence,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  married  to  a  daughter  of  William 
Fairfax,  a  gentleman  of  much  experience 
and  adventure  about  the  world,  who 
resided  at  his  neighboring  seat  "Bel- 
voir,"  on  the  Potomac,  and  superin 
tended,  as  agent,  the  large  landed 
operations  of  his  cousin,  Lord  Fairfax. 
These  comprehended  a  huge  territory, 
embracing  the  Northern  Neck,  and 
stretching  over  the  mountains  into 
what  was  then  something  of  a  frontier 
region,  the  valley  of  the  Shenandoah. 
In  this  more  remote  spot  resided  the 
owner  himself  at  Greenway  Court, 
keeping  up  a  rude  state,  and  gratifying 
his  love  of  the  chase,  for  he  had 
brought  with  him  from  Old  England 
the  tastes  of  a  genuine  fox-hunter. 
Washington,  though  too  young  to 
appreciate  the  eccentric  nobleman's 
varied  experience,  was  ready  to  follow 
him  in  the  hunt,  and  there  was  another 
source  of  sympathy  in  the  practical 
management  of  his  vast  territory.  Sur 
veys  were  to  be  made  to  keep  posses 
sion  of  the  lands,  and  bring  them  into 
the  market ;  and  who  so  well  adapted 
for  this  service  as  the  youth  who  had 
made  the  science  an  object  of  special 
study  ?  We  consequently  find  him  re 
gularly  retained  in  this  service.  His 
journal,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  remains 
to  tell  us  of  the  duties  and  adventures 
of  the  journey,  as  he  traversed  the  out 
lying  rough  ways  and  passages  of  the 
South  Branch  of  the  Potomac.  It  is  a 
short  record  of  camp  incidents  and  the 
progress  of  his  surveys  for  a  month  in 


the  wilderness,  in  the  spring  of  1748; 
the  prelude,  in  its  introduction  to 
Indians  and  the  exposures  of  camp  life, 
to  many  rougher  scenes  of  military 
service,  stretching  westward  from  the 
region. 

Three  years  were  passed  in  expe 
ditions  of  this  nature,  the  young  sur 
veyor  making  his  home  in  his  intervals 
of  duty  mostly  at  Mount  Vernon.  The 
health  of  his  brother,  the  owner  of  this 
place,  to  whom  he  was  much  attached, 
was  now  failing  with  consumption,  and 
George  accompanied  him.  in  one  of  his 
tours  for  health  in  the  autumn  of  IT 51 
to  Barbadoes.  As  usual,  he  kept  a 
journal  of  his  observations — he  was 
always  diligent  and  exact  in  these 
records  from  a  boy,  so  that  of  no  one 
so  illustrious  in  history  have  we  a 
more  perfect  picture  through  life— 
which  tells  us  of  the  every-day  living 
and  hospitalities  of  the  place,  with  a 
shrewd  glance  at  its  agricultural  re 
sources  and  the  conduct  of  its  gover 
nor.  A  few  lines  cover  nearly  a  month 
of  the  visit ;  they  record  an  attack  of 
the  smallpox,  of  which  his  countenance 
always  bore  some  faint  traces.  Leav 
ing  his  brother,  partially  recruited,  to 
pursue  his  way  to  Bermuda,  George  re 
turned  in  February  to  Virginia.  The 
health  of  Lawrence,  however,  continued 
to  decline,  and  in  the  ensuing  summer 
he  died  at  Mount  Vernon.  The  estate 
was  left  to  a  daughter,  who,  dying  in 
infancy,  the  property  passed,  according 
to  the  terms  of  the  will,  into  the  pos 
session  of  George,  who  thus  became  the 
owner  of  his  memorable  home. 

Previous     to     this     time,     rumors 
of  imminent   French   and    Indian  ag. 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


11 


gressions  on  the  frontier  began  to 
ige  tin-  attention  of  the  colony,  and 
preparations  were  making  to  resist,  the 
threatened  attack.  The  province  was 
divided  into  districts  for  enlistment 
and  organization  of  the  militia,  over 
one  of  which  Washington  was  placed, 
with  the  rank  of  major,  in  17">1,  when 
he  was  but  nineteen — a  mark  of  con 
fidence  sustained  by  his  youthful 
studies  and  experience,  but  in  which 
his  family  influence,  doubtless,  had  its 
full  share.  We  hear  of  his  attention 
to  military  exercises  at  Mount  Vernon, 
and  of  some  special  hints  and  instruc 
tions  from  one  Adjutant  Ware,  a 
Virginian,  and  a  Dutchman,  Jacob  Van 
Uraam,  who  gave  him  lessons  in  fenc 
ing.  Both  of  these  worthies  had  been 
the  military  companions  of  Lawrence 
\Vashinirton  in  the  West  Indies. 

O 

In  17 ">•'),  the  year  following  his 
brother's  death,  the  affairs  on  the  fron 
tier  becoming  pressing,  Governor  Din- 
widdie  stood  in  need  of  a  resolute 
agent,  to  bear  a  message  to  the  French 
commander  on  the  Ohio,  remonstrating 
against  the  advancing  occupation  of  the 
territory.  It  was  a  hazardous  service 
crossing  a  rousrh,  intervening  wilder- 

O  O      '  O 

ness,  occupied  by  unfriendly  Indians, 
and  it  was  a  high  compliment  to  Wash 
ington  to  select  him  for  the  duty. 
Amply  provided  with  instructions,  he 
left  Williamsburg  on  the  mission  on 
the  last  day  of  October,  and,  by  the 
middle  of  November,  reached  the  ex 
treme  frontier  settlement  at  Will's 
Creek.  Thence,  with  his  little  party 
of  eight,  he  pursued  his  way  to  the 
fork  of  the  Ohio,  where,  with  a  military 
eye,  he  noted  the  ad  vantageous  position 


subsequently  selected  as  the  site  of 
Fort  Du  Quesne,  and  now  the  flourish 
ing  city  of  Pittshurg.  lie  then  held  M 
council  of  the  Indians  at  Logstown, 
and  procured  guides  to  the  station  of 
the  French  commandant,  a  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  distant,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Lake  Erie,  which  he  reached 
on  the  llth  of  December.  An  inter 
view  having  been  obtained,  the  mes 
sage  delivered  and  an  answer  received, 
the  most  hazardous  part  of  the  "expe 
dition  yet  lay  before  the  party  in  their 
return  home.  They  were  exposed  to 
frozen  streams,  the  winter  inclemencies, 
the  pefils  of  the  wilderness  and  Indian 
hostilities,  when  Indian  hostilities  were 
most  cruel.  To  hasten  his  home  wan  1 
journey,  Washington  separated  from 
the  rest,  with  a  single  companion.  His 
life  was  more  than  once  in  danger  on 
the  way,  first  from  the  bullet  of  an 
Indian,  and  during  a  night  of  extra 
ordinary  severity,  in  crossing  the  violent 
Allegany  river  on  a  raft  beset  with  ice. 
Escaping  these  disasters,  he  reached 
Williamsburg  on*  the  16th  January, 
and  gave  the  interesting  journal  now 
included  in  his  writings  as  the  report 
of  his  proceedings.  It  was  at  once 
published  by  the  Governor,  and  was 
speedily  reprinted  in  London. 

The  observations  of  Washington,  and 
the  reply  which  he  brought,  confirmed 
the  growing  impressions  of  the  designs 
of  the  French,  and  military  prepara 
tions  were  kept  up  with  spirit.  A 
Virginia  regiment'  of  three  hundred 
was  raised  for  frontier  service,  and 
Washington  was  appointed  its  Lieu 
tenant-Colonel.  Advancing  with  a 
portion  of  the  force  of  which  he  had 


12 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


command,  he  learnt  that  the  French 
were  in  the  field,  and  had  commenced 
hostilities.  Watchful  of  their  move 
ments,  he  fell  in  with  a  party  under 
Jumonville,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Great  Meadows,  which  he  put  to  flight 
with  the  death  of  their  leader.  His 
own  superior  officer  having  died  on 
the  march,  the  entire  command  fell 
upon  Washington,  who  was  also  joined 
by  some  additional  troops  from  South 
Carolina  and  New  York.  With  these 
he  was  on  his  way  to  attack  Fort 
Du  Quesne,  when  word  was  brought  of 
a  large  superior  force  of  French  and 
Indians  coming  against  him.  This 
intelligence  led  him,  in  his  unprepared 
state,  to  retrace  his  steps  to  Fort  Neces 
sity,  at  the  Great  Meadows,  where  he 
received  the  attack.  The  fort  was  gal 
lantly  defended  both  within  and  with 
out,  Washington  commanding  in  front, 
and  it  was  not  until  serious  loss  had 
been  inflicted  on  the  assailants  that  it 
surrendered  to  superior  numbers.  In 
the  capitulation  the  garrison  was 
allowed  to  return  home  with  the  honors 
of  war.  A  second  time  the  Legislature 
of  Virginia  thanked  her  returning 
officer. 

The  military  career  of  Washington 
was  now  for  a  time  interrupted  by  a 
question  of  -etiquette.  An  order  was 
issued  in  favor  of  the  officers  holding 
the  king's  commission  outranking  the 
provincial  appointments.  Washington, 
who  knew  the  worth  of  his  country 
men,  and  the  respect  due  himself,  would 
not  submit  to  this  injustice,  and  the 
estate  of  Mount  Vernon  now  requiring 
his  attention,  he  withdrew  from  the 
army  to  its  rural  occupations.  He  was 


not,  however,  suffered  to  remain  there 
long  in  inactivity.  The  arrival  of 
General  Braddock,  with  his  forces,  in 
the  river,  called  him  into  action  at  the 
summons  of  that  officer,  who  was  at 
tracted  by  his  experience  and  accom 
plishments.  Washington,  anxious  to 
serve  his  country,  readily  accepted  an 
appointment  as  one  of  the  General's 
military  family,  the  question  of  rank 
being  thus  dispensed  with.  He  joined 
the  army  on  its  onward  march  at  Win 
chester,  and  proceeded  with  it,  though, 
he  had  been  taken  ill  with  a  raging 
fever,  to  the  Great  Crossing  of  the 
Youghiogany.  Here  he  was  compelled 
to  remain  with  the  rear  of  the  army,  by 
the  positive  injunctions  of  the  General, 
from  whom  he  exacted  his  "  word  of 
honor  "  that  he  "  should  be  brought  up 
before  he  reached  the  French  fort." 
This  he  accomplished,  though  he  was 
too  ill  to  make  the  journey  on  horse 
back,  arriving  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Youghiogany,  in  the  immediate  vicin 
ity  of  the  fatal  battle-field,  the  evening 
before  the  engagement.  In  the  events 
of  that  memorable  ninth  of  July,  1*755, 
he  was  destined  to  bear  a  conspicuous 
part.  From  the  beginning,  he  had  been 
a  prudent  counsellor  of  the  General  on 
the  march,  and  it  was  by  his  advice 
that  some  of  its  urgent  difficulties  had 
been  overcome.  He  advised  pack- 
horses  instead  of  baggage-wagons,  and 
a  rapid  advance  with  an  unencumbered 
portion  of  the  force  before  the  enemy 
at  Fort  Du  Quesne  could  gain  strength ; 
but  Braddock,  a  brave,  confident  officer 
of  the  European  school,  resolutely  ad 
dicted  to  system,  was  unwilling  or 
unable  fully  to  carry  out  the  sugges- 


UKOKGE    WASHINGTON. 


13 


tii -.us.  Had  Washington  lu>ld  the  corn- 
mail!!,  i:  U  but  little  to  say  that  lie 
would  not  have  been  caught  in  an 
ambuscade.  It  was  his  last  advice,  on 
arriving  at  the  scene  on  the  eve  of  the 
battle,  that  the  Virginia  Rangers  sliould 

O  O 

be  employed  as  a  scouting  j  tarty,  rather 
than  the  regular  troops  in  the  advance. 
The  proposition  was  rejected.  The 
next  day,  though  still  1  eel  tie  from  his 
illness,  Wa-hin^ton  mounted  his  horse 
and  tottk  his  station  as  aid  to  the  Gene 
ral.  It  was  a  brilliant  display,  as  the 
well-appointed  army  passed  under  the 
eye  of  its  martinet  commander  on  its 
w.-.y  from  the  encampment,  crossing 
and  recrossinGj  the  Monon^ahela  to- 

O  O 

wards  Fort  Du  Quesne — and  the  sol 
dierly  eye  of  Washington  is  said  to 
have  kindled  at  the  sight.  The  march 
had  continued  from  sunrise  till  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when,  as 
the  advanced  column  was  ascending  a 
rising  ground  covered  with  trees,  a  fire 
was  opened  upon  it  from  two  concealed 
ravines  on  either  side.  Then  was  felt 
the  want  of  American  experience  in 
fighting  with  the  Indian.  Braddock 
in  vain  sent  forward  his  men.  They 
would  not,  or  could  not,  fight  against  a 
hidden  foe,  while  they  themselves  were 
presented  in  open  view  to  the  marks 
men.  Washington  recommended  the 

O 

Virginia  example  of  seeking  protection 
from  the  trees,  but  the  General  would 
not  even  then  abandon  his  European 
tactics.  The  regulars  stood  in  squads 
shooting  their  own  companions  before 
thenL^The  result  was  an  overwhelm 
ing  defeat,  astounding  when  the  rela 
tive  forces  and  equipment  of  the  two 
ies  is  considered.  Braddock,  who, 


amid-t  all  his  faults,  did   not  lack  cour- 

directed  his  men  while  five  h< 
\\vre  killed  under  him.  Washii: 
was  also  in  the  thickest  of  the  das. 
losing  two  horses,  while  his  clothes  wen- 
pierced  by  four  bullets.  Many  years 
afterwards,  when  he  visited  the  re 
on  a  peaceful  mission,  an  old  Indian 
came  to  see  him  as  a  wonder.  lie  had, 
he  said,  levelled  his  rifle  so  often  at  him 
without  effect,  that  he  became  per 
suaded  he  was  under  the  special  protec 
tion  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  gave  up 
the  attempt.  Braddock  at  length  fell 
in  the  centre  of  the  field  fatally 
wounded.  Nothing  now  remained  but 
flight.  But  four  officers  out  of  eighty- 
six  were  left  alive  and  unwounded. 
Washington's  first  care  was  for  the 
wounded  General;  his  next  employment, 
to  ride  to  the  reserve  camp  of  Dunl>ar, 
forty  miles,  for  aid  and  supplies.  He- 
turning  with  the  requisite  assistance, 
he  met  the  wounded  Braddock  on  the 
retreat.  Painfully  borne  along  the 
road,  he  survived  the  en^as-eruent 

/  O      O 

several  days,  and  reached  the  Great 
Meadows  to  die  and  be  buried  there 
by  the  broken  remnant  of  his  army. 
Washington  read  the  funeral  service, 
the  chaplain  being  disabled  by  a 
wound.  Writing  to  his  brother,  he 
attributed  his  own  protection,  "  beyond 
all  human  probability  or  expectation," 
to  the  "  all-powerful  dispensations  of 
Providence."  The  natural  and  pious 
sentiment  was  echoed,  shortly  after. 
from  the  pulpit  of  the  excellent  Samuel 
Davies,  in  Hanover  County,  Vir 
ginia.  "I  may  point,"  said  he,  in 
illustration  of  his  patriotic  purpose  of 
encouraging  new  recruits  for  the  ser- 


14 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


vice,  in  words  since  that  time  often 
pronounced  prophetic,  "to  that  heroic 
youth,  Colonel  Washington,  whom  I 
cannot  but  hope  Providence  has  hither 
to  preserved  in  so  signal  a  manner  for 
some  important  service  to  his  coun- 

try." 

One  lesson  of  this  campaign  was 
deeply  impressed  upon  the  mind  of 
Washington,  the  disobedience,  disorder 
and  cowardice  of  the  regular  troops 
compared  with  the  heroic  fate  of  the 
Virginia  companies.  He  expresses 
himself  in  the  strongest  terms  'of  this 
"  dastardly  behavior  of  the  regular 
troops,  so  called"  in  his  correspondence 
at  the  time,  and  the  experience,  doubt 
less,  remained  with  him  in  after  days 
of  doubt  and  difficulty  when  the  con 
viction  was  needed  to  sustain  him 
against  hostile  hosts. 

The  public  attention  of  the  province 
was  now  turned  to  Washington,  as  the 
best  defender  of  the  soil.  His  volun 
tary  service  had  expired,  but  he  was 
still  engaged  as  adjutant,  in  directing 
the  levies  from  his  residence  at  Mount 
Vernon,  whence  the  Legislature  soon 
called  him  to  the  chief  command  of  the 
Virginia  forces.  He  stipulated  for 
thorough  activity  and  discipline  in  the 
whole  service,  and  accepted  the  office. 
The  defence  of  the  country,  exposed  to 
the  fierce  severities  of  savage  warfare, 
was  in  his  hands.  He  set  the  posts  in 
order,  organized  forces,  rallied  recruits, 
and  appealed  earnestly  to  the  Assem 
bly  for  vigorous  means  of  relief.  It 
was  again  a  lesson  for  his  after  life 
when  a  greater  foe  was  to  be  pressing 
our  more  extended  frontiers  under  his 
care,  and  the  reluctance  or  weakness  of 


the  Virginia  Legislature  was  to  be 
reproduced,  in  an  exaggerated  form,  in 
the  imbecility  of  Congress.  We  shall 
thus  behold  Washington,  everywhere 
the  patient  child  of  experience,  unwea- 
riedly  conning  his  lesson,  learning, 
from  actual  life,  the  statesman's  know 
ledge  of  man  and  affairs.  He  was 
sent  into  this  school  of  the  world  early, 
for  he  was  yet  but  twenty-three,  when 
this  guardianship  of  the  State  was 
placed  upon  his  shoulders. 

We  find  him  again  jealous  of  autho 
rity  in  the  interests  of  the  service.  A 
certain  Captain  Dagworthy,  in  a  small 
command  at  Fort  Cumberland,  refused 
obedience  to  orders,  asserting  his  privi 
lege  as  a  royal  officer  of  the  late  cam 
paign,  and  the  question  was  ultimately 
referred  to  General  Shirley,  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  at  Boston.  Thither 
Washington  himself  carried  his  appeal, 
making  his  journey  on  horseback  in 
the  midst  of  winter,  and  had  his  view 
of  his  superior  authority  confirmed. 
A  bit  of  romance  also  has  been  con 
nected  with  this  tour  on  public  busi 
ness.  At  New  York  he  was  entertain 
ed  by  a  friend  in  Beverley  Robinson, 
of  a  Virginia  family,  who  had  married 
one  of  the  heiresses  of  the  wealthy 
landowner  of  the  Hudson,  Adolphus 
Philipse,  the  proprietor  of  the  manor 
of  that  name.  Mrs.  Robinson  had  a 
sister  equally  wealthy  with  herself, 
young  and  beautiful,  of  whom  it  was 
said  Washington,  who  was  by  no 
means  insensible  to  female  charms,  and 
who  had  also  a  prudent  regard  for 
fortune,  became  enamored.  Indeed, 
his  admiration,  says  Mr.  Irving,  is  "  an 
historical  fact."  The  story  is  some- 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


15 


times  added,  that  lie  sought  her  hand 
and  was  rejected,  but  this  the  excellent 
authority  ju-t  cited  discredits  as  iiu- 
ble.  Urgent  public  all'airs  called 


the  gallant  officer  to  new  struggles  in 
the  wilderness,  and  the  lucky  prize 
passed  into  the  arms  of  a  brother 
officer  of  Braddock's  stall*. 

Returning  immediately  to  Virginia, 
Colonel    Washington    continued    his 

employment  in  active  military  duties, 
struggling  not  less  with  the  inetlicient 
•nibly  at  home,  whom  he  tried  to 
arouse,  than  with  the  enemy  abroad. 
It  was  a  trying  service,  in  which  the 
commander,  spite  of  every  hardship 
which  he  freely  encountered,  was  sure 
to  meet  the.  reproach  of  the  suffering 
public.  The  disinterested  conduct  of 
Washington  proved  no  exception  to 
the  rule.  He  even  experienced  the  in 
gratitude  of  harsh  newspaper  comments, 
and  thought  for  the  moment  of  r 
nation  ;  but  his  friends,  the  noblest 
spirits  in  the  colony,  reassured  him  of 
their  confidence,  and  he  steadily  went 
on.  The  arrival  of  Lord  Loudoun,  so 
pleasantly  satirized  by  Franklin  in  his 
Autobiography,  as  oommander-in<chief 
of  his  majesty's  forces,  seemed  to  oiler 
some  opportunity  for  more  active  ope 
rations,  and  Washington  drew  up  a 
memorial  of  the  affairs  he  had  in 
charge  for  his  instruction,  and  met  him 
in  conference  at  Philadelphia.  Little, 
however,  resulted  from  these  negotia 
tions  for  the  relief  of  Virginia,  and 
Washington,  exhausted  by  his  labors, 
was  compelled  to  seek  retirement  at 
Mount  Vernon,  where  he  lay  for  some 
time  prostrated  by  an  attack  of  fever. 
In  the  next  spring,  of  1758,  he  was 


enabled  to  resume  his  command.  The 
Virginia  troops  took  the  Held,  joined 
to  the  forces  of  the  Uritish  general, 
Forbes,  and  the  year,  after  various,  dis 
astrous  movements,  which  might  have 
been  better  directed  had  the?  counsels 
of  Washington  prevailed,  was  signal 
ized  by  the  capture  of  Fort  Du  Quesne. 
Wa-hiiiLfton,  with  his  Virginians,  tra- 

O  '  O 

versed  the  ground  whitened  with  the 
bones  of  his  former  comrades  in  Brad- 
dock's  expedition,  and  with  his  entry 
of  the  fort  closed  the  French  dominions 
on  the  Ohio  The  war  had  taken 
another  direction  on  the  Canadian 
frontier  in  New  York,  and  Virginia 
was  left  in  repose. 

Shortly  after  this  event,  in  January, 
1759,  Washington  was  married  to  Mrs. 
Martha  Oust  is,  of  the  White  House, 
county  of  New  Kent.  This  lady,  1  >orn  in 
the  same  year  with  himself,  and  conse 
quently  in  the  full  bloom  of  youth  ful 
womanhood,  at  twenty-seven,  was  the 
widow  of  a  wealthy  lauded  proprietor 
whose  death  had  occurred  three  years 
before.  Her  maiden  name  was  Dan- 
d  ridge,  and  she  was  of  Welsh  descent. 
The  prudence  and  gravity  of  her  dis 
position  eminently  fitted  her  to  be  the 
wife  of  Washington.  She  was  her 
husband's  sole  executrix,  and  managed 
the  complicated  affairs  of  the  estates 
which  he  had  left,  involving  the  raising 
of  crops  and  sale  of  them  in  Europe, 
with  ability.  Her  personal  charms 
too,  in  these  days  of  her  widowhood, 
are  highly  spoken  of.  The  well-known 
portrait  by  Woolaston,  painted  at  this 
period,  presents  a  neat,  animated  figure, 
with  regular  features,  dark  chestnut 
hair,  and  hazel  eyes,  in  a  dress  which. 


16 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


changed  often  in  the  interval,  the 
whirlitn^  of  fashion  has  restored  to  the 

O   O 

year  in  which  we  write,  1860.  The 
story  of  the  courtship  is  too  character 
istic  to  be  omitted.  The  first  sight  of 
the  lady,  at  least  in  her  widowhood, 
by  the  gallant  Colonel,  was  on  one  of 
his  military  journeyings  during  the  last 
campaign,  just  alluded  to,  of  the  old 
French  war.  He  was  speeding  to  the 
Council  at  Williamsburg,  on  a  special 
message,  to  stir  up  aid  for  the  camp, 
when,  crossing  the  ferry  over  the  Pani- 
unkey,  a  branch  of  York  River,  he  was 
waylaid  by  one  of  the  residents  of  the 
region,  who  compelled  him,  by  the 
inexorable  laws  of  old  Virginia  hospi 
tality,  to  stop  for  dinner  at  his  man 
sion.  The  energetic  officer,  intent  on 
despatch,  was  reluctant  to  yield  a 
moment  from  his  affairs  of  state,  but 
there  was  no  escape  of  such  a  guest 
from  such  a  host.  Within,  he  found 
Mrs.  Custis,  whose  attractions  recon 
ciled  even  Washington  to  delay.  He 
not  only  stayed  to  dine,  but  he  passed 
the  night,  a  charmed  guest,  with  his 
friendly  entertainer.  The  lady's  resi 
dence,  fortunately,  was  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  Williamsburg,  and  a  soldier's 
life  requiring  a  prompt  disposition  of 
his  opportunities,  the  Colonel,  mindful, 
perhaps,  of 'the  loss  of  Miss  Philipse 
under  similar  circumstances,  pressed 
his  suit  with  vigor,  and  secured  the 
lady  at  once  in  the  midst  of  her  suit 
ors.  He  corresponded  with  her  con 
stantly  during  the  remainder  of  the 
campaign,  and  in  the  month  of  Jan 
uary,  1759,  the  wedding  took  place 
with  great  e"clat,  at  the  bride's  estate 
at  the  White  House.  The  honeymoon 


was  the  inauguration  of  a  new  and 
pacific  era  of  Washington's  hitherto 
troubled  military  life. 

Yet  even  this  repose  proved  the  in 
troduction  to  new  public  duties.  With 
a  sense  of  the  obligations  befitting  a 
Virginia  gentleman,  Washington  had 
offered  himself  to  the  suffrages  of  his 

O 

fellow  countrymen  at  Winchester,  and 
been  elected  a  member  of  the  House 
of  Burgesses.  About  the  time  of  his 
marriage,  he  took  his  seat,  when  an 
incident  occurred  which  has  been  often 
narrated.  The  Speaker,  by  a  vote  of 
the  House,  having  been  directed  to 

/  O 

return  thanks  to  him  for  his  eminent 
military  services,  at  once  performed 
the  duty  with  warmth  and  eloquence. 
Washington  rose  to  express  his  thanks, 
but,  never  voluble  before  the  public 
became  too  embarrassed  to  utter  a  syl 
lable.  "Sit  down,  Mr.  Washington," 
was  the  Courteous  relief  of  the  gentle 
man  who  had  addressed  him,  "  your 
modesty  equals  your  valor,  and  that 
surpasses  the  power  of  any  language  I 
possess."  He  continued  a  member  of 
the  House,  diligently  attending  to  its 
business  till  he  was  called  to  the  work 
of  the  Revolution,  in  this  way  adding 
to  his  experiences  in  war,  familiarity 
with  the  practical  duties  of  a  legislator 
and  statesman.  He  was  constantly  pre 
sent  at  the  debates,  it  being  "  a  maxim 
with  him  through  life,"  as  his  biogra 
pher,  Mr.  Sparks,  observes — and  no  one 
has  traced  his  course  more  minutely,  or 
is  better  entitled  to  offer  the  remark — 
"  to  execute  punctually  and  thoroughly 
every  charge  which  he  undertook." 

Duties  like  these  from  such  a  man 
were  a  graceful  addition  to  the  plan- 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


17 


ter's  life.  After  a  short  sojourn  at  his 
wife's  estate,  In-  carried  JUT  to  the  house 
at  Mount  Vernon,  which  now  became 
a  homo.  Two  children  of  his  wife,  by 
her  former  marriage,  a  l>oy  and  girl, 
•«ix  and  four  years  old,  accompanied 
her.  "I  am  now,  I  believe,"  wrote  her 
husband,  to  a  correspondent  in  Lon 
don,  u  fixed  at  this  seat  with  an  agree- 
altle  partner  for  life,  and  I  hope  to  find 
more  happiness  in  retirement  than  I 
ever  experienced  amidst  the  wide  and 
hustling  world." 

The  occupations  and  resources  of  his 
life  at  this  period  have  been  fondly 
detailed  by  his  biographers  from  the 
numerous  memoranda  of  his  diaries, 
almanacs,  and  note-l»ooks.  The  hum 
blest  proceedings  of  farm  business  and 
the  daily  management  of  his  affairs  are 
uncovered  before  our  eyes.  We  may 
learn  the  cares  and  provision  of  negro 
lal »« >r  on  the  plantation,  and  the  need  of 
watchfulness  in  the  midst  of  abund 
ance.  "  Would  any  one  believe,"  says 
he  in  one  of  these  records  of  1708, 
"that  with  a  hundred  and  one  cows 
actually  reported  at  a  late  enumeration 
of  the  cattle,  I  should  still  be  obliged 
to  buy  butter  for  my  family?"  The 
very  items  of  his  housekeeping  and  per 
sonal  apparel  may  be  gathered  from 
his  orders  to  his  London  correspon 
dents,  for  in  the  state  of  dependence  in 
which  the  mother  country  then  kept 
her  colonies,  it  was  necessary  to  procure 
a  coat  or  a  pair  of  shoes  from  London. 
Some  of  our  finely  dressed  aristocratic 
ancestors  must  needs  have  gone  in  ill 
fitting  garments.  Certainly  a  fashion 
able  tailor  of  the  present  day  would 
scarcely  be  able  to  supply  an  order, 
3 


without  great  hazard  to  his  reputation, 
from  such  a  description  as  Washington 
sent  of  himself,  MS  a  man  "six  fe.-t  : 
and  proportionally  made;  if  anything 
rather  slender  for  a  person  of  that 
height."  It  was  a  convenient  thing 
then  to  have  a  particular  friend  with  a 
foot  of  the  same  size  as  your  own,  as 
Washington  had  in  Colonel  Beiler, 
when  he  availed  himself  in  his  direc 
tions  across  the  water  of  that  gentle 
man's  last,  only  "  a  little  wider  over  the 
instep."  We  may  trace  the  parapher 
nalia  of  the  bride  in  these  orders  for  Mrs. 
Washington,  in  the  year  of  their  mar 
riage — the  "  salmon-colored  tabby,"  and 
the  Brussels  lace,  and  the  very  play 
things  for  little  Miss  Martha  —  "a 
fashionable  dressed  doll  to  cost  a 
guinea,"  and  another  for  rougher,  week 
day  handling,  to  cost  live  shillings  ;  and 
there,  is  the  genteel  attire  for  "  Master 
Custis,  eight  years  old,"  his  "  silver 
laced  hat,"  "  neat  pumps,"  and  "  sil 
ver  shoe  and  knee  buckles" — vanities 
moderated  by  the  introduction  of  "  a 
small  Bible  neatly  bound  in  Turkey, 
and  John  Parke  Custis  wrote  in  gilt 
letters  on  the  inside  of  the  cover,"  with 
a  prayer  book  to  match.  Here,  too,  in 
the  same  familiar  handwriting  of  Wash- 

O 

ington,  is  an  order  for  several  busts  f  >r 
the  decoration  of  the  family  mansion, 
now  assuming  proportions  worthy  the 
new  alliance  which  had  brought  lands 
and  money  to  its  owner's  fortunes— 
"  one  of  Alexander  the  Great ;  another 
of  Julius  Csesar;  another  of  Charles 
XIL,  of  Sweden,  and  a  fourth,  of  the 
King  of  Prussia."  A  good  selection 
for  a  soldier  who  had  looked  upon  the 
realities  of  military  life.  We  shall  by 


18 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


and  by  see  that  same  King  of  Prussia, 
the  great  Frederick,  sending  a  portrait 
of  himself  with  the  message,  "From 
the  oldest  general  in  Europe  to  the 
greatest  general  in  the  world." 

The  daily  life  of  the  gentleman  plan 
ter  is  all  the  while  going  on,  the  crops 
of  wheat  and  tobacco  getting  in,  which 
were  to  be  embarked  beneath  his  eye 
on  the  broad  bosom  of  the  Potomac 
on  their  voyage  to  England  and  the 
West  Indies.  So  well  established  was 
his  repute  as  a  producer,  that  a  barrel 
of  flour  bearing  his  brand  was  ex 
empted  from  inspection  in  the  ports 
of  the  latter  country.  Cordial  hospi 
tality  was  going  on  within  doors,  and 
wholesome  country  sports  without. 
He  had  hounds  for  the  fox  hunt ;  there 
were  deer  to  be  killed  in  his  woods, 
abundant  wild  fowl  on  his  meadows  in 
the  season  and  fisheries  in  the  river  at 
his  feet :  and  that  there  might  be  no 
falling  into  rusticity,  came  the  annual 
state  visits,  when  he  was  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Washington,  to  the  notable 
picked  society  at  the  capitals,  Williams- 
burg  and  Annapolis.  It  was  a  hearty, 
generous  life,  fitted  to  breed  manly 
thoughts  and  good  resolution  against 
the  coming  time,  when  the  share  shall 
be  again  exchanged  for  the  sword,  and 
the  humble  argument  of  the  vestry  at 
the  little  church  at  Pohick,  where 
good,  eccentric  Parson  Weems,  incul 
cated  his  moralities,  for  the  louder  con 
troversy  of  national  debate.  In  fine, 
look  upon  Washington  at  this  or  any 
other  period  of  his  life,  we  ever  find 
him  industrious,  always  useful ;  his  ac 
tivity  and  influence  radiating  from  the 
centre  of  domestic  life,  and  his  private 


virtue,  to  the  largest  interests  of  the 
world. 

Fifteen  years  had  been  thus  passed 
at  Mount  Vernon,  when  the  peace  of 
provincial  life  began  to  be  ruined  by  a 
new  agitation.  France  had  formerly  fur 
nished  the  stirring  theme  of  opposition 
and  resistance  when  America  poured 
out  her  best  blood  at  the  call  of  British 
statesmen,  and  helped  to  restore  the  fall 
ing  greatness  of  England.  That  same 
Parliament  which  had  been  so  wonder 
fully  revived  when  America  seconded 
the  call  of  Chatham,  was  now  to  inflict 
an  insupportable  wound  upon  her  de 
fenders.  The  seeds  of  the  Revolution 
must  be  looked  for  in  the  previous  war 
with  France.  There  and  then  America 
became  acquainted  with  her  own  pow 
ers,  and  the  strength  and  weakness  of 
British  soldiers  and  placemen.  To  no 
one  had  the  lesson  been  better  taught 
than  to  Washington.  By  no  one  was  it 
studied  with  more  impartiality.  There 
was  no  faction  in  his  opposition.  The 
traditions  of  his  family,  his  friends,  the 
provinces,  were  all  in  favor  of  allegi 
ance  to  the  British  government.  He 
had  nothing  in  his  composition  of  the 
disorganizing  mind  of  a  mere  political 
ag-itator,  a  breeder  of  discontent.  The 

O  ' 

interests  of  his  large  landed  estates,  and 
a  revenue  dependent  upon  exports,, 
bound  him  to  the  British  nation.  But 
there  was  one  principle  in  his  nature 
stronger  in  its  influence  than  all  these 

O 

material  ties — the  love  of  justice ;  and 
when  Patrick  Henry  rose  in  the  House 
of  Burgesses,  with  his  eloquent  assertion 
of  the  rights  of  the  colony  in  the  mat 
ter  of  taxation,  Washington  was  there 
in  his  seat  to  respond  to  the  sentiment. 


GEOlir.K     \YASUINiJTON. 


19 


To  this  memorable  occasion,  on  the 

S'.Mh  May,  17i>.~>,  has  been  referred  the 
birth  of  that  patriotic  fervor  in  the 
mind  <>f  Washington.  welcoming  as  it 

O  '  O 

was  developed  a  new  order  of  things 

which  never  ivstnl  till  the  liberties  of 
the  country  were  established  on  the 

firmest  foundations  of  independence 
and  civil  order.  "  His  correspondence," 
says  Irving,  writing  of  tins  incident, 
"hitherto  had  not  turned  on  political 
or  speculative  themes;  being  engrossed 
by  either  military  or  agricultural  mat 
ters,  and  evincing  little  anticipation  of 
the  vortex  of  pultlic  duties  into  which 
he  was  uliout  to  l>e  drawn.  All  his 
previous  conduct  and  writings  sho\v  a 
loyal  devotion  to  the  crown,  with  a 
patriotic  attachment  to  his  country, 
probable,  that,  on  the  present  occa 
sion,  that  latent  patriotism  received  its 
first  electric  shock."  Be  this  as  it  may, 
he  was  certainly  from  the  beginning  an 
earnest  supporter  of  the  constitutional 
liberties  of  his  country,  and  met  eveiy 
fresh  aggression  of  Parliament  as  it 

oo 

•,  in  the  most  resolute  manner. 
He  took  part  in  the  local  Virginia  reso 
lutions,  and  on  the  meeting  of  the  first 
Congress,  in  Philadelphia,  went  up  to 
that  honored  body  with  Patrick  Henry 
and  Edmund  Peudleton.  He  was  at 
this  time  a  firm,  unyielding  inaintainer 
of  the  rights  in  controversy,  and  fully 
prepared  for  any  issue  which  might 
grow  out  of  them;  but  he  was  no 
revolutionist — for  it  was  not  in  the 
nature  of  his  mind  to  consider  a 
demand  for  justice  a  provocative  to 
war.  Again,  in  Virginia,  after  the  ad 
journment  of  Congress,  in  the  important 
Convention  at  Richmond,  he  listens  to 


the     impetuous     eloquence    of    Patrick 
Henry.      It    was    this    body    which 
on  loot  a  popular  military  organization 
in    the   colony,   ami    Wa-hin--Ion,   who 
had    previously    given    his    aid    to    the 

independent  companies,  was  a  men 
of  the  Committee  to  report  the  plan. 
A  few  days  later,  he  wrii.-s  to  his 
brother,  John  Augustine,  who  \\as 
employed  in  training  a  company,  that, 
he  would  "very  cheerfully  accept  the 
honor  of  commanding  it,  if  occasion 
require  it  to  be  drawn  out." 

The  second  Continental  Congress,  of 
which  Washington  was  also  a  member, 
met  at  Philadelphia  in  May,  177"),  its 
members  gathering  to  the  deliberations 
with  throbbing  hearts,  the  musketry 
of  Lexington  ringing  in  their  ears. 
The  overtures  of  war  by  the  I'ritish 
troops  in  Massachusetts  had  gathered 
a  little  provincial  army  about  Boston ; 
a  national  organization  was  a  measure 
no  longer  of  choice,  but  of  necessity. 
A  Commander-in-Chief  was  to  be  ap 
pointed,  and  though  the  selection  was 
not  altogether  free  from  local  jealousies, 
the  superior  merit  of  Washington  was 
seconded  by  the  superior  patriotism  of 
the  Congress,  and  on  the  fifteenth  of 
June  he  was  unanimously  elected  by 
ballot  to  the  high  position.  His 
modesty  in  accepting  the  office  was  as 
noticeable  as  his  fitness  for  it.  I  It- 
was  not  the  man  to  flinch  from  any 
duty,  because  it  was  hazardous  ;  but  it 
is  worth  knowing,  that  we  may  form  a 
due  estimate  of  his  character,  that  he 
felt  to  the  quick  the  full  force  of  the 
sacrifices  of  ease  and  happiness  that  he 
was  making,  and  the  new  difficulties 
he  wras  inevitably  to  encounter.  He 


20 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


was  so  impressed  with  the  probabilities 
of  failure,  and  so  little  disposed  to 
vaunt  liis  own  powers,  that  he  begged 
gentlemen  in  the  House  to  remember, 
"  lest  some  unlucky  event  should  hap 
pen  unfavorable  to  his  reputation," 
that  he  thought  himself,  "  with  the 
utmost  sincerity,  unequal  to  the  com 
mand  he  was  honored  with."  With  a 
manly  spirit  of  patriotic  independence, 
worthy  the  highest  eulogy,  he  declared 
his  intention  to  keep  an  exact  account 
of  his  public  expenses,  and  accept 
nothing  more  for  his  services — a  reso 
lution  which  was  faithfully  kept  to  the 
letter.  With  these  disinterested  pre 
liminaries,  he  proceeded  to  Cambridge, 
and  took  command  of  the  army  on  the 
third  of  July.  Bunker  Hill  had  been 
fought,  establishing  the  valor  of  the 
native  militia,  and  the  leaguer  of 
Boston  was  already  formed,  though 
with  inadequate  forces.  There  was  ex 
cellent  individual  material  in  the  men, 
but  everything  was  to  be  done  for  their 
organization  and  equipment.  Above 
all,  there  was  an  absolute  want  of 
powder.  It  was  impossible  to  make 
any  serious  attempt  upon  the  British 
in  Boston,  but  the  utmost  heroism  was 
shown  in  cutting  off  their  resources  and 
hemming  them  in.  Humble  as  were 
these  inefficient  means  in  the  present, 
the  prospect  of  the  future  was  darkened 
by  the  short  enlistments  of  the  army, 
which  were  made  only  for  the  year, 
Congress  expecting  •  in  that  time  a 
favorable  answer  to  ,  their  second 
Petition  to  the  King.  The  new  re 
cruits  came  in  slowly,  and  means  were 
feebly  supplied,  but  Washington,  bent 
on  action,  determined  upon  an  attack. 


For  this  purpose,  he  took  possession  of 
and  fortified  Dorchester  Heights,  and 
prepared  to  assail  the  town.  The 
British  were  making  an  attempt  to  dis 
lodge  him,  which  was  deferred  by  a 
storm ;  and  General  Howe,  having 
already  resolved  to  evacuate  the  city,  a 
few  days  after,  on  the  17th  of  March, 
ingloriously  sailed  away  with  his  troops 
to  Halifax.  The  next  day,  Washington 
entered  the  town  in  triumph.  Thus 
ended  the  first  epoch  of  his  Revolution 
ary  campaigns.  There  had  been  little 
opportunity  for  brilliant  action,  but 
great  difficulties  had  been  overcome 
with  a  more  honorable  persistence,  and 
a  substantial  benefit  had  been  gained. 
The  full  extent  of  the  services  of  Wash 
ington  became  known  only  to  his  pos 
terity,  since  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
at  the  time  to  conceal  the  difficulties 
under  which  he  labored ;  but  the 
country  saw  and  felt  enough  to  extol 
his  fame  and  award  him  an  honest 
meed  of  gratitude.  A  special  vote  of 
Congress  gave  expression  to  the  senti 
ment,  and  a  gold  medal,  "bearing  the 
head  of  Washington,  and  on  the  reverse 
the  legend  Hostibus  primofugatis,  was 
ordered  by  that  body  to  commemorate 
the  event. 

We  must  now  follow  the  commander 
rapidly  to  another  scene  of  operations, 
remembering  that  any  detailed  notice, 
however  brief,  of  Washington's  mili 
tary  operations  during  the  war,  would 
expand  this  biographical  sketch  into  a 
historical  volume.  New  York  was  evi 
dently  to  be  the  next  object  of  attack, 
and  thither  Washington  gathered  his 
forces,  and  made  every  available  means 
of  defence  on  land.  By  the  beginning 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


21 


of  July,  when  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
lence  was  received  in  camp,  Gene 
ral  Howe  had  made  his  :ippi-.-!ranee  in 
the  lower  bay  from  Halifax,  where  he 
was  speedily  joined  by  his  brother, 
1  Howe,  the  admiral,  who  came 
bearing  ineffectual  propositions  for  re 
conciliation.  Having  oirasioii  to  ad 
dress  the  American  Commander-in- 
C'hief,  he  failed  to  irive  him  his  proper 
title,  lest  he  should  recogni/e  his  posi 
tion,  but  superseribed  his  letter,  "To 
George  Washington,  Esq."  This  was 
borne  by  a  messenger  asking  for  Mr. 
Washington,  who  was  properly  re 
minded,  by  the  adjutant  who  met  him, 
that  he  knew  of  no  such  person  in  the 
army,  and  the  letter  being  produced,  it 
was  pronounced  inadmissible.  The 
messenger  accordingly  returned,  and 
General  Howe,  some  days  after,  sent 
another,  -\\lio  asked  for  (rt  n<  rdl  Wa-di- 
ington,  and  being  admitted  to  his 
presence,  addressed  him  as  Your  Excel- 
l< .in-tj,  oil'eiing  another  letter  with  vari 
ous  etceteras  appended  to  the  simple 
name,  urging  that  they  meant  ."every 
thing."  But  Washington  was  not  to 

o  o 

be  caught  by  a  subterfuge.  They 
may,  indeed,  said  he,  mean  "  every 
thing,"  but  they  also  mean  "  anything," 
and  he  could  not  receive  a  letter  relat 
ing  to  liis  public  station  directed  to 
him  as  a  private  person.  So  the  Brit 
ish  adjutant  was  compelled  to  report 
the  contents  of  the  epistle,  which  re 
lated  to  the  reconciliation ;  but  here 
again  he  was  checkmated  by  Washing 
ton,  who,  aware  of  the  nature  of  Lord 
Howe's  overtures,  replied  that  they 
were  but  pardons,  and  the  Americans, 
who  had  committed  no  offence,  but 


stood    only    upon    their    r!  >uld 

stand  in  no  need  of  them.  Thus  ter 
minated  this  interview,  a  m«»t  charae- 
teristie  one,  a  model  for  diplomatic 
action,  and  even  private  courtesy,  which 
was  highly  appreciated  by  Con_ 
and  the  country  at  the  time,  and  which 
will  never  be  forgotten. 

Additional  reinforcements  to  the 
royal  troops  on  Staten  Island  now 
arrived  from  England;  a  landing 
made  by  the  well-equipped  army  on 
Long  Island,  and  a  battle  was  immi 
nent.  Washington,  who  had  his  head 
quarters  in  New  York,  made  vigilant 
preparations  around  the  city,  and  at  the 
works  on  Long  Island,  which  had  been 
planned  and  fortified  by  General 
Greene.  This  officer  unfortunately 
falling  ill,  the  command  fell  to  General 
Putnam,  who  was  particularly  charged 
by  Washington  with  instructions  for 
the  defence  of  the  passes  by  which  the 
enemy  might  approach.  These  were 
neglected,  an  attack  was  made  from 
opposite  sides,  and  in  spite  of  much 
valiant  fighting  on  the  part  of  the  va 
rious  defenders,  who  contended  with 
fearful  odds,  the  day  was  most  disas 
trous  to  the  Americans.  The  slaughter 
was  great  on  this  27th  of  August,  and 
many  prisoners,  including  General  Sul 
livan  and  Lord  Stirling,  were  taken. 
Still  the  main  works  at  Brooklyn,  occu 
pied  by  the  American  troops,  remained, 
though,  exposed  as  they  were  to  the 
enemy's  fleet,  they  were  no  longer  ten 
able.  Washington,  whose  duties  kept 
him  in  the  city  to  be  ready  for  its  de 
fence,  as  soon  as  lie  heard  of  the 
engagement,  hastened  to  the  spot,  but 
it  was  too  late  to  turn  the  fortunes  of 


22 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON 


the  day.  He  was  compelled  to  witness 
tlie  disaster,  tradition  tells  us,  not  with 
out  the  deepest  emotion.  An  unknown 
contemporary  versifier  of  the  war,  in 
his  simple  rhymes,  has  commemorated 
the  scene : 

"  Brave  Washington  did  say, 

Alas !  good  God, 
Brave  men  I've  lost  to-day, 

They're  in  their  blood. 
His  grief  he  did  express 
To  see  them  in  distress, 
His  tears  and  hands  witness 

He  lov'd  his  men." ' 

But  it  was  the  glory  of  Washington 
to  save  the  remnant  of  the  army  by  a 
retreat  more  memorable  than  the  vic 
tory  of  General  Clinton.  The  day 
after  the  battle,  and  the  next,  were 
passed  without  any  decisive  movements 
on  the  part  of  the  British,  who  were 
about  bringing  up  their  ships,  and  who, 
doubtless,  as  they  had  good  reason, 
considered  their  prey  secure.  On  the 
twenty-ninth,  Washington  took  his 
measures  for  the  retreat,  and  so  per 
fectly  were  they  arranged,  that  the 
whole  force  of  nine  thousand,  with  ar 
tillery,  horses,  and  the  entire  equipage 
of  war,  were  borne  off  that  night,  under 
cover  of  the  fog,  to  the  opposite  shore 
in  triumph.  It  was  a  most  masterly 
operation,  planned  and  superintended 
by  Washington  from  the  beginning. 
He  did  not  sleep  or  rest  after  the  bat 
tle  till  it  was  executed,  and  was  among 
the  last  to  cross. 

After  this  followed  in  rapid  succes 
sion,  though  with  no  undue  haste,  the 
abandonment  of  New  York,  the  with- 

1  Ballad  Literature  of  the  Revolution.     Cyclopaedia  of 
American  Literature,  I.  445. 


drawal  of  the  troops  into  Westch  ester, 
the  affair  at  White  Plains,  the  more 
serious  loss  of  Fort  Washington,  and 

O  / 

the  retreat  through  the  Jerseys.  It 
was  the  darkest  period  of  the  war,  the 
days  of  which  Paine  wrote  in  the 
inemorable  expression  of  the  opening 
number  of  his  "  Crisis."  "  These  are 
the  times  that  try  men's  souls :  the  sum 
mer  soldier  and  the  sunshine  patriot 
will,  in  this  crisis,  shrink  from  the 
service  of  his  country;  but  he  that 
stands  it  now,  deserves  the  love  and 
thanks  of  man  and  woman."  To  infe 
riority  in  numbers,  with  a  host  at  its 
heels,  the  American  soldiery  added  the 
serious  disqualifying  conditions  of  lack 
of  discipline  and  poverty  of  equipment. 
Enlisted  for  short  terms,  with  all  the 
evils  of  a  voluntary  militia  unused  to 
service,  it  was,  as  Hamilton,  who  shared 
the  great  chieftain's  solicitudes,  express 
ed  it,  but  "  the  phantom  of  a  military 
force."  The  letters  of  Washington, 
at  this  period,  and  indeed  generally 
throughout  the  war,  are  filled  with  the 
anxieties  of  his  position,  in  which  he 
saw  his  fame  perilled  with  the  welfare 
of  his  country.  The  severest  suffering 
for  an  ingenuous  mind  is,  perhaps,  to 
bear  unworthy  reproach,  to  be  miscon 
ceived  by  a  public  for  whom  eveiy 
sacrifice  is  silently  borne  and  endured. 
This  was  Washington's  lot,  for  long, 
weary  years  of  marching  and  counter 
marching:  between  the  Hudson  and  the 

o 

Chesapeake,  husbanding  his  small,  inef 
ficient  force,  retreating  to-day,  to-mor 
row  advancing,  working  the  "phan 
tom  "  with  such  success  in  the  face  of 
the  enemy  as  to  perplex  the  movements 
of  experienced  generals  with  consider- 


:    WASHINGTON. 


23 


able  forces.  Nor  was  the  fault  altoge 
ther  at  the  <l<»>r  «>f  Congress.  That 
body  was,  indeed,  a  popular  representa 
tion,  composed,  at  the  outset,  of  very 
able  nini,  and  always  having  such 
included  in  its  numbers;  but  it  was 
very  loosely  tied  t«>  its  constituency. 
At  present,  ilk-  delegated  jinwer  of  the 

representative,  where  n<»t  specially  Con 
trolled,  is  absolute;  but  in  the  ttimsy 
texture  of  the  unformed  body  politic 
of  the  old  confederacy,  there  was  little 
cohesion  of  parts  or  attention  to  mu 
tual  duties.  The  battles  of  the  Devo 
lution  were  fought  with  half-disciplined 
armies  at  the  will  of  a  half-formed 
administration.  Loral  State  jealousies 

had   to   be  conciliated,  and   the  people 

could  not  appreciate  the  advantag--  of 
an  army,  (irmly  handled,  as  the  in-tru- 
ment  of  its  own  sovereign  authority. 
The  battle  had  to  be  fought  often  and 

O 

in  many  parts  of  the  country,  according 

to  the  immediate  necessity  and  tempo 
rary  inclination.  Much  was  gained  by 
Washington,  but  it  came  slowly  and 
reluctantly,  though  there  were  brilliant 
exceptions  in  the  service.  Generally, 
there  was  a  want  of  regularity  and 
uniformity.  It  was  somewhat  reme 
died  by  the  extraordinary  powers  con 
ferred  upon  Washington  at  the  close 
of  17 70,  but  the  evil  was  inherent  in 
the  necessarily  loose  political  organiza 
tion. 

After  the  battle  of  Long  Island, 
there  had  been  little  but  weariness  and 
disaster,  in  the  movements  of  Wash 
ington,  to  the  end  of  the  year,  when, 
as  the  forces  of  Howe  were  apparently 
closing  in  upon  him  to  open  the  route 
to  Pliiladelphia,  he  turned  in  very 


despair,  and  by  the  brilliant  a  Hair  at 
Trenton  retarded  the  motions  of  the 
enemy  and  checked  t'  wring  de 

spondency  <>f  his  countrymen.  It  was 
well  planned  and  courageously  under 
taken.  Christmas  night,  of  a  most 
inclement,  wintry  season,  when  the 
river  was  blocked  with  ice,  was  ehosen 
to  cross  the  Delaware,  and  attack  the 
British  and  Hessian-*  on  the  opposite 
side  at  Trenton.  The  expedition  was 
led  by  Washington  in  person,  who 
anxiously  watched  the  slow  process  of 
the  transportation  on  the  river,  which 
lasted  from  sunset  till  near  the  dawn- 
too  long  for  the  contemplated  surprise 
by  night.  A  storm  of  hail  and  snow 
now  set  in,  as  the  General  advanced 
with  his  men,  reaching  the  outposts 
about  eight  o'clock.  A  gallant  onset 
was  made,  in  which  Lieut.  Monroe, 
•vvards  the  President,  was  wounded  ; 
Sullivan  and  the  other  officers,  accord 
ing  to  a  previously  arranged  plan, 
seconded  the  movement  from  another 
part  of  the  town;  the  Hessians  were 
disconcerted,  and  their  general,  Ilahl, 
slain,  when  a  surrender  was  made, 
nearly  a  thousand  prisoners  laying 
down  their  arms.  General  Howe, 
astonished  at  the  event,  sent  out 
Cornwallis  in  pursuit,  and  he  had 
his  game  seemingly  secure,  when  Wash 
ington,  in  front  of  him  at  Trenton,  on 
the  same  side  of  the  Delaware,  made  a 
bold  diversion  in  an  attack  on  t  he- 
forces  left  behind  at  Princeton.  It 
was,  like  the  previous  one,  conducted  1  »y 
night,  and,  like  the  other,  was  attended 
with  success,  though  it  cost  the  life  of 
the  gallant  Mercer.  After  these  bril 
liant  actions  the  little  army  took  up 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


its  quarters  at  Morristown  for  the 
winter. 

In  the  spring,  General  Howe  made 
some  serious  attempts  at  breaking  up 
the  line  of  "Washington  in  New  Jersey, 
but  he  was  foiled,  and  compelled  to 
geek  another  method  of  reaching  Phila 
delphia.  The  withdrawal  of  the  Brit 
ish  troops  would  thus  have  left  a  simple 
course  to  be  pursued  on  the  Delaware, 
had  not  the  attention  of  Washington 
been  called  in  another  direction  by  the 
advance  of  Burgoyne  from  Canada.  It 
was  natural  to  suppose  that  Howe 
would  act  in  concert  with  that  officer 
on  the  Hudson,  nor  was  Washington 
relieved  from  the  dilemma  till  intelli 
gence  reached  him  that  the  British 
general  had  embarked  his  forces,  and 
was  actually  at  the  Capes  of  the  Dela 
ware.  He  then  took  up  a  position  at 
Germantown  for  the  defence  of  Phila 
delphia.  Visiting  the  city  for  the  pur 
pose  of  conference  with  Congress,  he 
there  found  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette, 
who  had  just  presented  himself,  as  a 
volunteer  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  to  the 
government.  His  reception  by  Con 
gress  had  halted  a  little  on  his  first 
arrival,  but  his  disinterestedness  had 
overcome  all  obstacles,  and  Washington, 
who  had  schooled  himself  to  look  upon 
realities  without  prejudice,  gave  the 
young  foreign  officer  a  cordial  welcome. 
He  took  him  to  the  camp,  and  soon 
gave  him  an  opportunity  to  bleed  in 
the  sacred  cause. 

Howe,  meanwhile,  the  summer  hav 
ing  passed  away  in  these  uncertainties, 
was  slowly  making  his  way  up  the 
Chesapeake  to  the  Head  of  Elk,  to  gain 
access  to  Philadelphia  from  Maryland, 


and  the  American  army  was  advanced 
to  meet  him.  The  British  troops  num 
bered  about  eighteen  thousand ;  the 
American,  perhaps  two-thirds  of  that 
number.  A  stand  was  made  by  the 
latter  at  Chad's  Ford,  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Brandywine,  to  which  Knyphau- 
sen  was  opposed  on  the  opposite  bank, 
while  Cornwallis,  with  a  large  division, 
took  the  upper  course  of  the  river,  and 
turned  the  flank  of  the  position.  Gene 
ral  Sullivan  was  intrusted  with  this 
portion  of  the  defence ;  but  time  was 
lost,  in  the  uncertainty  of  information, 
in  meeting  the  movement,  and  when 
the  parties  met,  Cornwallis  had  greatly 
the  advantage.  A  rout  ensued,  which 
was  saved  from  utter  defeat  by  the 
resistance  of  General  Greene,  who  was 
placed  at  an  advantageous  point.  La 
fayette  was  severely  wounded  in  the 
leg  in  the  course  of  the  conflict. 
Washington  was  not  dismayed  by  the 
disaster ;  on  the  contrary,  he  kept  the 
field,  marshalling  and  manoeuvring 
through  a  hostile  country,  one  thousand 
of  his  troops,  as  he  informed  Congress, 
actually  barefoot.  He  would  have 
offered  battle,  but  he  was  without  the 
means  to  resist  effectually  the  occupa 
tion  of  Philadelphia.  A  part  of  the 
enemy's  forces  were  stationed  at  Ger 
mantown,  a  few  miles  from  the  city. 
Washington,  considering  them  in  an 
exposed  situation,  planned  a  surprise. 
It  was  well  arranged,  and  at  the  outset 
was  successful ;  but,  owing  to  the  con 
fusion  in  the  heavy  fog  of  the  October 
morning,  and  loss  of  strength  and  time 
in  attacking  &  strongly  defended  man 
sion  at  the  entrance  of  the  village,  what 
should  have  been  a  brilliant  victory 


GEOIICK     WASHINGTON. 


25 


was  changed  into  a  partial  defeat.  The 
action,  however,  as  Mr.  Sparks  ob 
serves,  was  "not  without  its  good 
('fleets.  It  revived  the  hopes  of  tin1 

country  by  proving,  that  notwithstand 
ing  the  recent  successes  of  the  enemy, 
neither  the  spirit,  resolution  and  valor 
of  the  troops,  nor  the  energy  and  confi 
dence  of  the  commander,  had  suffered 
an\  diminution."  It  was  the  remark 
of  the  Freiieh  minister,  the  Count  de 
>n  hearing  of  these  transac 
tions,  "  that  nothing  struck  him  so 
much  as  General  Washington's  attack 
ing  and  giving  battle  to  General  Howe's 
army  ;  that  to  bring  an  army,  raised 
within  a  year,  to  this,  promised  every 
thing." 

Tims  closed  the  campaign  of  1777  in 
Pennsylvania,  while  Burgoyne  was  lay 
ing  down  his  arms  to  the  northern 
army  at  Saratoga.  Though  it  was 
Washington's  lot  to  endure  all  the 
difficulties  of  the  service  while  Gates 
was  reaping  the  rewards  of  victory,  the 
former  had  his  share  in  the  counsels 
which  led  to  that  brilliant  event.  His 
letter  to  Schuyler,  of  the  22d  of  July, 
exhibited  a  knowledge  of  the  position, 
and  a  prescience  of  the  exact  result, 
which  show  how  successfully  he  would 
have  managed  the  campaign  in  person. 
He  notices  Burgoyne's  first  successes, 
and  argues  that  they  "  will  precipitate 
his  ruin,"  while  he  sees  his  weakness  in 
acting  in  detachment,  exposing  his  par 
lies  to  great  hazard.  "  Could  we,"  he 
writes,  "  be  so  happy  as  to  cut  one  of 
them  off,  supposing  it  should  not  ex 
ceed  four,  five,  or  six  hundred  men,  it 
'  1  inspirit  the  people,  and  do 
away  much  of  their  present  anxiety." 
4 


Had  h«-  written  after,  instead  of  befoiv 
the  event,  he  could  not  betti-r  have 
described  the  influence  of  IJcniiin 
To  Washington,  as  the  directing  head 
of  the  national  army,  belongs  his  full 
share  of  the  glories  of  Saratoga  ; 
the  accidental  greatness  which  fell  to 
the  vainglorious  Gates  was  made  the 
occasion  of  assaults  upon  the  Coinman- 
der-in-Chief,  which  would  have  crept 
from  their  mean  concealments  into  open 
revolt,  had  not  the  conspiracy  been 
strangled  in  its  infancy  by  the  incor 
ruptibility  of  his  friends  and  the  virtue 
of  the  count. r)'. 

The  encampment  at  Valley  Forge 
succeeded  the  scenes  we  have  de 
scribed.  It  is  a  name  synonymous 
with  suH'erini*.  Half  clad,  wantiii"-  fre- 

O  O 

(juently  the  simplest  clothing,  without 
shoes  or  blankets,  the  army  was  hutted 
in  the  snows  and  ice  of  that  inclement 
winter.  Yet  they  had  Washington 
with  them  urging  every  means  for  their 
welfare,  while  his  "  Lady,"  as  his  wife 
was  always  called  in  the  army,  came 
from  Mount  Vernon,  as  was  her  custom 
during  these  winter  encampments,  to 
lighten  the  prevailing  despondency. 
She  lived  simply  with  her  husband, 
sharing  the  humble  provisions  of  the 
camp,  and  occupying  herself  with  her 
needle  in  preparing  garments  f«»r  the 
naked.  Washington,  meanwhile,  was 
busy  with  a  Committee  of  Congress  in 
putting  the  army  on  a  better  foundation. 
With  the  return  of  summer  came  the 
evacuation  of  Philadelphia  by  the  Brit- 
i>h,  who  were  pursuing  their  route 
across  New  Jersey  to  embark  on  the 
waters  of  New  York.  Washington 
with  his  forces  was  watching  their 


26 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


movements  from  above.  Shall  lie  at 
tack  tliem  on  their  march  ?  There  was 
a  division  of  opinion  among  his  officers. 
The  equivocal  Charles  Lee,  then  un 
suspected,  was  opposed  to  the  step ;  but 
Washington,  with  his  best  advisers, 
Greene,  Lafayette,  and  Wayne,  was  in 
favor  of  it.  He  accordingly  sent  La 
fayette  forward,  when  Lee  interposed, 
and  claimed  the  command  of  the  ad 
vance.  Washington  himself  moved  on 
with  the  reserve  towards  the  enemy's 
position  near  Monmouth  Court  House, 
to  take  part  in  the  fortunes  of  the  day, 
the  28th  of  June.  As  he  was  proceed 
ing,  he  was  met  by  the  intelligence  that 
Lee  was  in  full  retreat,  without  notice 
or  apparent  cause,  endangering  the 
order  of  the  rear,  and  threatening  the 
utmost  confusion.  Presently  he  came 
upon  Lee  himself,  and  demanded  from 
him  with  an  emphasis  roused  by  the 
fiercest  indignation — and  the  anger  of 
Washington  when  excited  was  terrific 
— the  cause  of  the  disorder.  Lee  re 
plied  angrily,  and  gave  such  explana 
tion  as  he  could  of  a  superior  force, 
when  Washington,  doubtless  mindful 
of  his  previous  conduct,  answered  him 
with  dissatisfaction,  and,  it  is  said, 
on  the  authority  of  Lafayette,  ended 
by  calling  the  retreating  general  "a 
damned  poltroon."1  It  was  a  great 
day  for  the  genius  of  Washington. 
He  made  his  arrangements  on  the  spot 
to  retrieve  the  fortunes  of  the  hour,  and 
so  admirable  were  the  dispositions,  and 
so  well  was  he  seconded  by  the  bravery 
of  officers  and  men,  even  Lee,  redeem 
ing  his  character  by  his  valor,  that  at 

1  Dawson's  "  Battles  of  the  United  States,"  I.  408. 


the  close  of  that  hot  and  weary  day, 
the  Americans  having  added  greatly  to 
the  glory  of  their  arms,  remained  at 
least  equal  masters  of  the  field.  The 
next  morning  it  was  found  that  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  had  withdrawn  towards 
Sandy  Hook.  The  remainder  of  the 
season  was  passed  by  Washington  on 
the  eastern  borders  of  the  Hudson,  in 
readiness  to  cooperate  with  the  French, 
who  had  now  arrived  under  D'Estaing, 
and  in  watching  the  British  in  New 
York.  In  December  he  took  up  his 
winter  quarters  at  Middlebrook,  in  New 
Jersey.  The  event  of  the  next  year  in 
the  little  army  of  Washington,  was 
Wayne's  gallant  storming  of  Stony 
Point,  on  the  Hudson,  one  of  the  de 
fences  of  the  Highlands,  which  had 
been  recently  captured  and  manned  by 
Sir  Henry  Clinton.  The  attack  on  the 
night  of  the  15th  July  was  planned  by 
Washington,  and  his  directions  in  his  in 
structions  to  Wayne,  models  of  careful 
military  precision,  were  faithfully  car 
ried  out.  Henry  Lee's  spirited  attack 
on  Paulus  Hook,  within  sight  of  New 
York,  followed,  to  cheer  the  encamp 
ment  of  Washington,  who  now  busied 
himself  in  fortifying  West  Point.  Win 
ter  again  finds  the  army  in  quarters  in 
New  Jersey,  this  time  at  Morristown, 
when  the  hardships  and  severities  of 
Valley  Forge  were  even  exceeded  in  the 
distressed  condition  of  the  troops  in  that 
rigorous  season.  The  main  incidents  of 
the  war  are  henceforth  at  the  South. 

The  most  prominent  ev^nt  in  the 
personal  career  of  Washington,  of  the 
year  IT 80,  is  certainly  the  defection 
of  Arnold,  with  its  attendant  execution 
of  Major  Andre.  This  unhappy  trea-- 


GEOIUJK    WASHINGTON. 


27 


son  was  every  way  calculated  to  enlist 

his  feelings,  but  lie  suH'ered  neither 
hate  nor  sympathy  to  di\ert  him  from 
tin-  considerate  path  of  duty.  We  may 
not  pause  over  the  subsequent  events 
of  the  war,  the  ivncwed  exertions  of 
Congress,  the  severe  contests  in  the 
South,  the  meditated  movement  upon 
New  York  the  following  year,  but  must 
hasten  to  the  sequel  at  Yorktown.  The 
movement  of  the  army  of  Washington 
t<>  Virginia  was  determined  by  the  ex- 
.•d  arrival  of  the  French  fleet  in 
that  quarter  from  the  West  Indies. 
Lafayette  was  already  on  the  spot, 
where  he  had  been  engaged  in  the  de 
fence  of  the  eountiy  from  the  inroads 
of  Arnold  and  Phillips.  Cornwallis 
had  arrived  from  the  South,  and  unsus 
picious  of  any  serious  opposition  was 
entrenching  himself  on  York  River. 
It  was  all  that  could  be  desired,  and 
Washington,  who  had  been  planning 
an  attack  upon  New  York  with  Ro- 
chainbeau,  now  suddenly  and  secretly 
directed  his  forces  by  a  rapid  inarch 
southward.  Extraordinary  exertions 
were  made  to  expedite  the  troops. 
The  timely  arrival  of  Colonel  John 
La\vreus,  from  France,  with  an  instal 
ment  of  the  French  loan  in  specie,  came 
to  the  aid  of  the  liberal  efforts  of  the 

financier   of   the    Revolution,    Robert 

7  •. 

Morris.  Lafayette,  with  the  Virgin 
ians,  was  hedging  in  the  fated  Corn 
wallis.  Washington  had  j  ust  left  Phila 
delphia,  when  he  heard  the  joyous 
news  of  the  arrival  of  De  Grasse  in  the 
Chesapeake.  lie  hastened  on  to  the 
scene  of  action  in  advance  of  the  troops, 
with  De  Rochambeau  gaining  time  to 
pause  at  Mount  Vernon,  which  he  had 


not  seen  since  the  opening  of  the  war, 

and  enjoy  a  day's  hurried  hospitality 
with  his  Fivneh  officers  at  the  wel 
come  mansion.  Arrived  at  Williams- 
burl/,  Washington  urged  on  the  mili 
tary  movements  with  the  energy  of  an- 
tieipated  victory.  "Hurry  on,  then, 
my  dear  sir,"  he  wrote  to  General  Lin 
coln,  "with  your  troops  on  the  wings 
of  speed."  To  make  the  la>t  arrange 
ments  with  the  French  admiral,  he 
visited  him  in  his  ship,  at  the  mouth 
of  James'  River.  Everything  was  t  o  1  >e 
done  before  succor  could  arrive  from  the 
British  fleet  and  troops  at  New  York. 
The  combined  French  and  Ameri 
can  forces  closed  in  upon  Yorktown, 
which  was  fortified  by  redoubts  and 
batteries,  and  on  the  first  of  October. 
the  place  was  completely  invested. 
The  first  parallel  was  opened  on  the 
sixth. 

gun  on  the  ninth, 
two  annoying  redoubts  by  French  and 
American  parties  were  set  down  for 
the  night  of  the  fourteenth.  Hamilton, 
at  the  head  of  the  latter,  gallantly  car 
ried  one  of  the  works  at  the  point  of 
the  bayonet  without  firing  a  shot. 
Washington  watched  the  proceeding  at 
i  m  m  i  uent  hazard.  The  redoubts  gained 
were  fortified  and  turned  against  the 
town.  The  second  parallel  was  ready 
to  open  its  fire.  Cornwallis  vainly  at 
tempted  to  escape  with  his  forces  across 
the  river.  He  received  no  relief  from 
Sir  Henry  Clinton,  at  New  York,  and 
on  the  17th  he  proposed  a  surrender. 
On  the  19th,  the  terms  having  been 
dictated  by  Washington,  the  whole 
British  force  laid  down  their  arms.  It 
was  the  virtual  termination  of  the  war, 


Washington   lighted   the   first 
The  storming  of 


28 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


the  crowning  act  of  a  vast  series  of 
military  operations  planned  and  per 
fected  by  the  genius  of  Washington. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  war, 
his  efforts  and  vigilance  were  not  re 
laxed;  and  he  had  one  opportunity, 
t?ver  memorable  in  the  annals  of  politi 
cal  liberty,  of  showing  his  superiority 
to  the  common  ambition  of  conquerors. 
In  May,  1*782,  a  letter  was  addressed  to 
him  by  Col.  Nicola,  an  officer  who  had 
the  esteem  of  the  army,  stating  the 
inefficiency  of  the  existing  administra 
tion,  and  suggesting  a  mixed  form  of 
government,  with  a  King  at  its  head, 
with  no  indirect  appeal  to  the  ambition 
of  the  Commander-in-Chief  as  the  proper 
recipient  of  the  office.  To  this,  Wash 
ington  replied  with  the  utmost  decision, 
but  without  the  least  affectation  of 
doing  anything  heroic ;  he  simply  puts 
the  idea  out  of  the  way  as  something 
utterly  inadmissible,  "painful"  and 
"disagreeable"  to  his  mind.  He  re 
jects  it  as  a  gentleman  would  an 
unhandsome  suggestion.  Much  has 
been  said  of  this  matter,  and  there  is 
reason  to  believe  not  unjustifiably,  in 
praise  of  Washington.  "  There  was 
unquestionably,"  says  Mr.  Sparks,  "  at 
this  time,  and  for  some  time  afterwards, 
a  party  in  the  army,  neither  small  in 
number  nor  insignificant  in  character, 
prepared  to  second  and  sustain  a 
measure  of  this  kind,  which  they  con 
ceived  necessary  to  strengthen  the  civil 
power,  draw  out  the  resources  of  the 
country,  and  establish  a  durable  govern 
ment."  No  one  felt  these  evils  more 
keenly  than  Washington,  but  he  had 
too  much  faith  in  the  Kepublic  to 
despair  of  a  better  method  of  cure. 


He  knew  as  well  as  any  that  he  could 
not  be  king  if  he  would ;  the  anecdote 
is  quite  sufficient  to  prove,  where  proof 
was  not  wanting,  that  he  would  not  if 
he  could. 

Another  opportunity  yet  remained 
to  exhibit  his  control  of  the  temper  of 
the  army,  and  his  habitual  deference 
of  military  to  civil  government.  The 
occasion  arose  while  he  was  with  the 
troops  at  headquarters  at  Newburg, 
in  the  spring  of  1*783,  on  the  eve 
of  the  receipt  of  the  final  intelligence 
of  peace.  Congress,  always  dilatory  in 
providing  for  the  army,  had  shown  an 
unwillingness  or  incapacity  to  meet 
their  claims  ;  patient  remonstrance  had 
been  disregarded ;  and  now  a  meeting 
of  officers  was  called,  instigated  by  an 
appeal  of  extraordinary  vigor,  one  of 
the  compositions  since  ascertained  to 
have  been  written  by  General  John 
Armstrong,  and  known  as  "  The  New- 
burg  Letters,"  which  threatened  serious 
revolt.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that 
Washington  had  been  called  to  act  in 
such  an  emergency.  In  the  withdrawal 
of  the  Pennsylvania  line  from  the 
camp  at  the  beginning  of  1*781,  he  had 
met  a  similar  difficulty,  with  great 
prudence  and  moderation.  He  now 
brought  these  qualities  to  bear  with  a 
quickness  and  decision  proportioned  to 
the  crisis.  Summoning  the  officers 
together,  he  addressed  to  them  a  firm 

O  ' 

but  tender  remonstrance,  opening  his 
address  with  a  touch  of  pathos  which 
gained  all  hearts.  Pausing  after  he 
had  commenced  his  remarks,  to  take 
his  spectacles  from  his  pocket,  he  re 
marked  that  he  had  "grown  grey  in 
their  service,  and  now  I  am  growing 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


29 


Mind."  It  was  the  honr>t  In-art  «>f% 
Washington,  and  tlie  disaffected  re 
sponded  to  the  wisdom  aiul  feeling  of 
his  address. 

The  news  of  peace  arrived  within  the 
month,  and  the  army  prepared  to 
M'parnte.  In  nu'iiiory  of  their  fra 
ternity,  the  Society  of  tin1  Cincinnati 
was  founded,  consist  HILT  of  olliecrs  of 
tlic  Revolution  and  their  descendants, 
with  Washington  at  its  head.  In  the 

o 

be"-inniu<r  of  November,  he  took  leave 
o  o 

of  the  army  in  an  address  from  head 
quarters,  with  his  accustomed  warmth 
and  emotion,  and  on  the  25th,  entered 
Xe\v  York  at  the  head  of  a  military 
and  civic  procession  as  the  British 
evacuated  the  city.  On  the  4th  of 
December,  he  was  escorted  to  the 
harbor  on  his  way  to  Congress,  at 
Annapolis,  to  resign  his  command, 
after  a  touching  scene  of  farewell  with 

o 

his  officers  at  Fraunces'  Tavern^  when 
the  great  chieftain  did  not  disdain  the 
sensibility  of  a  tear  and  the  kiss  of  his 
friends.  Arrived  at  Annapolis,  having 
on  the  way  delivered  to  the  proper 
officer  at  Philadelphia  his  accounts  of 
his  expenses  during  the  war,  neatly 
written  out  by  his  own  hand,  on  the 
twenty-third  of  the  month  he  restored 
his  commission  to  Congress,  with  a  few 
remarks  of  great  felicity,  in  which  he 
commended  "  the  interests  of  our 
dearest  country  to  the  protection  of 
Almighty  God  ;  and  those  who  have 
the  superintendence  of  them  to  his 
holy  keeping." 

Mount  Vernon  airain  welcomed  its 
restored  lord.  He  reached  his  home 
the  day  before  Christmas,  and  cheerily, 
doubtless,  the  smoke  on  that  sacred 


holiday  ascended  from  the  thankful 
festivities.  A  fe\v  days  after,  a  letter 
to  (lovernor  Clinton,  of  Xe\v  York,  his 
old  comrade  in  arms,  records  the  inner 
most  feeling  of  his  heart.  "Tin-  sceiie,r 
he  writes,  u  is  at  last  closed.  I  fed 
myself  e;,s»-d  of  a  load  of  public  care. 
I  hope  to  spend*  the  remainder  of  my 
days  in  cultivating  the  affections  of 
good  men  and  in  the  practice  of  the 
domestic  virtues."  Did  ever  conqueror 
so  resign  his  heart  before? 

"We  may  not  linger,  tempting  as  is 
the  thome,  over  the  simple  life  on  the 
Potomac,  though  there  is  to  be  studied, 
no  less  than  in  camps  and  senates,  the 
true  nature  of  the  man.  Kind,  hos 
pitable,  sympathetic  to  eveiy  worthy 
appeal,  engaged  in  the  care  of  his 
estate,  sowing,  planting,  reaping,  the 
youthfulness  of  his  old  family  circle 
renewed  in  the  children  of  young 
Custis,  who  had  followed  his  sister  to 
an  early  grave,  he  lived  in  dignified, 
cheerful  retirement.  He  even  revived 
his  old  spoils  of  the  chase,  though  he 
had  no  longer  the  veteran  Fairfax  to 
cheer  him  on  with  his  halloo.  The  old 
nobleman  had  lived  to  listen  to  the 
tidings  of  Yorktown,  when  he  turned 
himself  to  the  wall  ami  died. 

Here  Fame  might  be  content  to  close 
the  scene  in  her  record  of  her  favorite 
child.  At  the  treaty  of  peace  he  was 
fifty-one,  and  had  gloriously  consum 
mated  the  duties  of  two  memorable 
eras  in  the  history  of  his  country,  each 
drawing  along  its  train  of  ideas — the 
war  with  France  and  the  war  with 
Great  Britain;  a  double  relief  from 
foreign  bondage;  the  establishment  of 
religious  and  political  independence. 


30 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


His  services  to  either  would  well  sup 
ply  enough  of  incident  and  eulogy  for 
these  pages — but  two  further  eras  are 
yet  before  him.  He  is  to  assist,  by  his 
all-powerful  voice  and  example,  in 
guiding  the  nation  he,  more  than  any, 
had  formed,  through  its  perilous  crisis 
— the  dangerous  period  when  it  was 
first  left  to  itself — to  the  calm  mainte 
nance  of  civil  liberty.  It  is  the  youth 
just  freed  from  the  restraint  of  harsh 
and  iniquitous  parentage,  putting  him 
self  under  the  yoke  of  a  new  and 
voluntary  submission.  This  second 
pupilage,  to  self-government,  resulted 
in  the  formation  of  the  Constitution. 
Many  ministered  to  that  noble  end,  far 
more  worthy  of  admiration  even  than 
the  previous  wars,  but  who  more  anx 
iously,  more  perseveringly,  than  "Wash 
ington  ?  His  authority  carried  the 
heart  and  intelligence  of  the  country 
with  it,  and  most  appropriately  was  he 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  Convention, 
in  1787,  which  gave  a  government  to 
the  scattered  States  and  made  America 
a  nation. 

Once  more  he  was  called  to  listen  to 
the  highest  demands  of  his  country  in 
his  unanimous  election  to  the  Presi 
dency.  With  what  emotions,  with 
what  humble  resignation  to  the  voice 
of  duty,  with  how  little  fluttering  of 
vain  glory  let  the  modest  entry,  in  his 
Diary,  of  the  16th  April,  1789,  cited  by 
Washington  Irving,  tell :  "  About  ten 
o'clock,"  he  writes,  "I  bade  adieu  to 
Mount  Vernon,  to  private  life  and  to 
domestic  felicity ;  and  with  a  mind  op 
pressed  with  more  anxious  and  pain 
ful  sensations  than  I  have  words  to 
express,  set  out  for  New  York  with  the 


best  disposition  to  render  service  to 
my  country  in  obedience  to  its  call, 
but  with  less  hope  of  answering  its 
expectations."  He  must  have  felt, 
gravely  as  he  bore  his  responsibilities, 
something  of  exulting  emotion  as  he 
was  borne  along  to  the  seat  of  govern 
ment  at  New  York  by  the  hearty 
plaudits  of  his  countrymen.  Yet  we 
never  hear;  in  a  single  instance,  then 
or  afterwards,  of  his  exhibiting  any 
feeling,  or  manifesting  any  conduct 
inconsistent  with  the  simplest  decorum 
of  a  gentleman.  He  was  eminently 
friendly  and  social,  but  calm,  dignified, 
and  reserved,  superadding  doubtless 
something,  as  was  fitting,  to  his  natural 
gravity,  in  thought  of  the  nation  which 
he  represented,  but  far  removed  from 
mock  greatness. 

We  have  the  most  authentic  means 
of  appreciating  Washington  at  this 
time,  in  his  private  Diary,  which  has 
been  printed,  from  the  first  day  of 
October,  1789,  to  the  10th  day  of 
March,  1790.  He  had  been  five  months 
seated  in  the  Presidency,  his  inaugura 
tion  having  taken  place  on  the  30th 
April.  During  a  portion  of  this  time 
he  had  been  prostrated  by  illness,  and 
death  seemed  at  hand.  We  may  pause 
to  note  his  reply  to  his  physician,  Dr. 
Bard,  who  could  not  but  express  his 
fears  of  his  recovery:  "Whether  to- 
mVht  or  twenty  years  hence  makes  no 
difference;  I  know  that  I  am  in  the 
hands  of  a  good  Providence ;"  the  very 
breathing  of  pious  resignation.  If 
aught  were  needed,  news  of  his  mo 
ther's  death,  at  Fredericksburg,  came 
to  temper  the  sober  joy  of  his  convales 
cence.  The  care  of  setting  the  machin- 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


31 


cry  of  the  new  government  in  motion 
succeeded,  \vlien  Congress   adjourned, 
ami   the    Diary  introduces  us    t«>   the 
Xe\v     K:  inland     tour,    extending     into 
New  Hampshire,  to  which  lie  devoted 
this   interval  of  leisure.      His  roadside 
observations  on  this  journey  show  his 
knowledge  of  n^riculture,  of  which  he 
was  always  a  fond  observer,  with  many 
simple  traits  of  character  by  the  way, 
and  one  famed   historic   passage   in   his 
account   of   the    reception    at   Boston, 
where     (Jovernor    Hancock,    slow    in 
appreciating  national  etiquette,  seemed 
to  hesitate  whether  more  was  due  to 
himself  or   to   his  Presidential  guest. 
We  may  learn,  too,  from  the  Diary,  hi» 
conscientious   scrutiny,   in   private,  of 
the  processes  leading  to  his  public  acts, 
and     may    venture    within    his   sacred 
hours    of    retirement    and    open    those 
doors  which  were  always  closed  to  the 
world     On  Sundays,  he  attends  church 
in  the  morning,  while  at  New  York,  at 
St.  Pauls,  and  occupies  the  afternoons 
with  his  private  correspondence.     On 
Tuesday    his    house    is    open    to    all 
cornel's.     There  are  many  anecdotes  of 
his  residence  here  and  at  Philadelphia, 
of  his  mode  of  living  during  his  two 
terms  of  the  Presidency.     lie  was  an 
early  riser,  a  habit  with  him  through 
life,  and  apportioned  his  day  with  the 
strictest  accuracy.     Economy  he  always 
practised  on  principle,  "  for  the  privi 
lege  of  being  independent;"   and  the 
story  is  told  of  his  rebuking  his  stew 
ard  for  bringing  on  his  table  an  expen 
sive  fish  before  it  was  in  season.     His 
table,  however,  was  well  served,  and 
I  In-  affairs  of  his  kitchen,  like  the  rest 
of  his  establishment,  were  conducted 


with  exemplary  system.    The  name  of 

his  cook,  Hercules,  '•'  Uncle  Ilnrkless,"  is 
commemorated  in  the  "Recollections" 
of  his  adopted  son,  (leor-v  Wa-hiiiirton 
I'arke  Clistis,  who  also  tells  us  of  the 
decorum  preserved  in  the  stables  l>y 
the  veteran,  Bishop,  who  had  been  the 
body  servant  of  General  Braddock. 
The  test  of  his  "  muslin  horses  "  was, 
that  they  should  not  soil  a  handker 
chief  of  that  fabric.  Washington  was 
a  true  Virginian  in  his  fondness  for 
horses.  His  cream-colored  coach,  with 
six  shining  bays,  was  long  an  object  of 
admiration  to  the  people  of  Philadel 
phia.  These,  and  the  like  anecdotes, 
are  subordinate  to  the  greatness  of 
Washington's  public  life,  '  but  they 
bring  before  us  the  man.1 

In  1791,  Washington  made  a  Proi 
dfiitial  tour  through  the  Southern 
States,  similar  to  his  tour  to  the  1 
which  has  also  been  made  public  in  his 
printed  Diary.  He  travelled  in  his 
carriage  along  the  seaboard  through 
Virginia  and  the  Carol inas  to  Georgia, 
when  he  had  the  opportunity  of  tra 
versing  many  scenes  of  the  war,  which 
In-  had  watched  with  so  much  anxiety, 
and  which  had  been  hitherto  known  to 
hijn  only  by  report. 

1  Ample  illustrations  of  this  character  are  before  the 
public  in  Mr.  Custis'  Recollection*,  with  Mr.  Lossing's 
notes;  the  latter's  "  Mount  Vernon  ami  its  Associ 
the  Northern  and  Southern  Tours  of  Washington,  in  his 
two  Diaries,  published  by  Mr.  Richardson,  at  New  York, 
and  the  late  Mr.  Richard  Rush's  review  of  the  Correspon 
dence  of  AVashington  with  his  private  secretary,  Lear. 
Irving'a  Life  abounds  with  fine  personal  traits  of  charac 
ter;  Mrs.  Kirkland  has  added  much  in  her  excellent 
"Memoirs"  from  a  careful  study  of  the  original  MSS.  in 
the  Department  of  State  ;  Paulding's  "  Life  "  has  some 
thing  that  is  not  elsewhere,  and  every  student  ol  Wash 
ington  must  acknowledge  with  pleasure  his  obligation  in 
little  things,  as  in  groat,  to  Mr.  J:irod  Sparks. 


32 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


Meanwhile,  parties  were  gradually 
forming  in  the  government — the  conser 
vative  and  the  progressive,  such  as  will 
always  arise  in  human  institutions — 
represented  in  the  administration  by 
the  rival  statesmen,  Hamilton  and  Jef 
ferson  ;  but  Washington  honestly  recog 
nized  no  guide  but  the  welfare  of  his 
country,  and  the  rising  waves  of  faction 
beat  harmlessly  beneath  his  Presi 
dential  chair.  One  test  question,  how 
ever,  rose  in  those  days  into  gigantic 
proportions.  The  example  of  America 
was  followed  by  France  with  enthusi 
asm  in  the  recovery  of  her  liberties, 
and  the  hearts  of  noble-spirited  men 
throughout  the  world  responded  to  her 
efforts  for  freedom.  Washington  could 
not  but  extend  his  cordial  sympathy, 
when  Lafayette  sent  to  him  the  thril 
ling  intelligence,  and  forwarded  to  his 
keeping,  as  a  souvenir  of  rising  liberty, 
the  key  of  the  Bastile  ;  yet  even  then 
he  breathes  a  prayer  for  the  safety  of 
his  friend  in  "  the  tremendous  tem 
pests  "  which  had  "  assailed  the  political 
ship."  In  the  darker  days  of  the  He- 
public,  stained  with  blood,  which  suc 
ceeded,  he  watched  with  trembling  the 
staggering  of  the  ship.  It  was  in 
Washington's  second  administration, 
to  which  he  had  been  chosen  with  no 
dissentient  voice,  that  French  affairs 
really  became  a  home  question.  The 
minister  Genet  then  came  to  America, 
and  prosecuted  his  insulting  attempts 
to  enlist  the  sympathies  of  America  in 
the  war  of  his  country  with  England, 
and  violate  the  professed  neutrality  of 
the  government.  A  considerable  por 
tion  of  the  people  were  so  forgetful  of 
themselves  and  their  country  as  to 


favor  his  schemes ;  but  no  such  sophis 
try  or  delusion  could  reach  the  mind 
of  Washington.  He  stood  firm,  and 
the  whole  country  learnt  in  time  to 
acquiesce  in  the  wisdom,  of  his  decision ; 
but  many  a  pang  was  inflicted  first  on 
the  heart  of  the  President,  who  was 
keenly  sensitive  to  popular  ingratitude. 
The  contest  culminated  in  the  struggle 
over  Jay's  British  Treaty  in  Congress, 
and  Washington  fairly  gained  a  tri 
umph  in  the  vote  of  approval.  There 
were  other  public  events  of  importance 
in  his  two  administrations.  The  West 
ern  Indian  War,  and  the  Pennsylvania 
Whisky  Insurrection,  both  deeply 
engaged  his  attention.  His  emotion 
on  first  hearing  the  news  of  St.  Glair's 
defeat,  exhibited  in  the  presence  of  his 
private  secretary,  Tobias  Lear,  was  one 
of  those  bursts  of  passion,  brief  and 
rare,  in  his  life,  but  fearful  in  their 
strength.  His  instructions  to  that 
officer,  on  parting,  had  been  most  care 
ful.  He  was  about  to  engage  in  a  war 
fare  which  Washington  had  learnt  to 
know  so  well,  in  the  experiences  of  his 
early  life,  and  his  injunctions  were 
given  with  proportionate  earnestness. 
"  Beware,"  said  he  at  parting,  "  of  a 
surprise ;"  and  St.  Clair  departed  with 
the  startling  admonition.  When  Wash 
ington  heard  of  the  disaster  to  his 

o 

troops,  the  scene  of  desolation,  with  all 
its  consequences,  came  vividly  to  his 
mind  with  the  lurking  strength  of  his 
own  old  impressions.  "  Oh,  God  !  oh, 
God  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  he's  worse  than 
a  murderer  !  How  can  he  answer  it  to 
his  country !  The  blood  of  the  slain 
is  upon  him — the  curse  of  widows  and 
orphans — the  curse  of  heaven  !"  This 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


33 


fervid  outbreak  was  followed,  almost 
instantly,  l>y  the  rebound,  which  wa* 
truly  characteristic  of  Washington  :  "  I 
will  hear  him  without  prejudice;  he 
shall  have  justice."  Thu<,  in  the  rery 
tempest  and  whirlwind  of  his  rage,  in 
the  words  of  the  great  dramatist,  there 
was  "  a  temperance  to  beget  a  smooth 
ness."  Washington  was  always  true  to 
the  cardinal  principle  of  justice.  In 
like  manner  with  the  Pennsylvania 
insurgents,  he  was  zealous  in  the  main- 

o 

tenauce  of  authority,  but  disposed  to 
me  ivy  at  the  first  signs  of  submis 
sion. 

As  the  close  of  his  second  adminis 
tration  approached,  he  turned  his 
thoughts  eagerly  to  Mount  Vernon  for 
a  few  short  years  of  repose ;  and  well 
had  he  earned  them  by  his  long  series 
of  services  to  his  country.  He  would 
have  been  welcomed  for  a  third  term, 
but  office  had  no  temptation  to  divert 
him  from  his  settled  resolution.  Yet 
he  pailed  fondly  with  the  nation,  and 
like  a  parent,  desired  to  leave  some 
<y  of  counsel  to  his  countiy.  Ac 
cordingly,  he  published  in  September, 
1796,  in  the  "Daily  Advertiser,"  in 
Philadelphia,  the  paper  known  as  his 
Farewell  Address  to  the  People  of  the 
United  States.  It  had  loner  encra^ed 

O  O     O 

his  attention ;  he  had  planned  it  him 
self,  and,  careful  of  what  he  felt  might 
be  a  landmark  for  ages,  had  consulted 
Jay,  Madison  and  Hamilton  in  its  com 
position.  The  spirit  and  sentiment, 
the  political  wisdom  and  patriotic  fer 
vor  were  every  whit  his  own.  Open 
ing  with  a  few  personal  remarks  in 
reference  to  his  Presidency,  he  proceeds 
enlarging  his  view  to  new  generations 
5 


in  the  future.  His  first  thought  is 
for  the  preservation  of  national  unity  - 

that  the  Union  should  receive  "a  cor 
dial,  habitual  and  immovable  attach 
ment."  The  force  of  language  cannot 
be  exceeded  with  which  he  urges  the 
importance  of  this  theme  by  every 
appeal  of  sensibility  and  interest.  The 
Constitution  is  then  commended,  as  the 
guardian  of  the  whole,  to  the  national 
affection  and  respect,  with  a  warning 
intimation  of  the  dangers  of  party- 
spirit  earned  to  excess.  Equally  upon 
governors  and  governed  does  he  im 
press  his  views.  At  home  he  calls  for 
the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  a  respect 
for  public  credit,  avoiding  needless 
debt ;  and  for  our  intercourse  with 
other  nations,  Strict  impartiality.  Let 
us  have,  says  he,  "  as  little  political 
connection  with  them  as  possible.1' 
This  and  Union  are  the  main  themes 
of  the  discourse,  which  closes  with  the 
anticipation  of  "  that  retreat  in  which 
I  promise  myself  to  realize,  without 
alloy,  the  sweet  enjoyment  of  partak 
ing,  in  the  midst  of  my  fellow-citizens, 
the  benign  influence  of  good  laws  under 
a  free  government,  the  ever  favorite 
object  of  my  heart,  and  the  happy 
reward,  as  I  trust,  of  our  mutual  cares, 
labors  and  dangers." 

Thus,  once  again,  Mount  Vernon  re 
ceived  her  son,  destined  never  long  to 
repose  unsolicited  by  his  countiy. 
France,  pursuing  her  downward  course, 
adopted  an  aggressive  policy  towards 
the  nation,  which  the  most  conciliating 
deference  could  no  longer  support.  A 
state  of  quasi  war  existed,  and  actual 
war  was  imminent.  The  President 
looked  to  Washington  to  organize  the 


GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 


army  and  take  the  command,  should  it 
be  brought  into  action,  and  he  accord 
ingly  busied  himself  in  the  necessary 
preparations.  It  was  best,  he  thought, 
to  be  prepared  for  the  worst  while 
looking  for  the  best.  New  negotiations 
were  then  opened,  but  he  did  not  live 
to  witness  their  pacific  results.  He 
was  at  his  home  at  Mount  Vernon, 
intent  on  public  affairs,  and  making  his 
rounds  in  his  usual  farm  occupations, 
with  a  vigor  and  hardihood  which  had 
abated  little  for  his  years,  when,  on  the 
12th  December,  he 'suffered  some  con 
siderable  exposure  from  a  storm  of 
snow  and  rain  which  came  on  while  he 
was  out,  and  in  which  he  continued  his 
ride.  It  proved,  the  next  day,  that  he 
had  taken  cold,  but  he  made  light  of  it, 
and  passed  his  usual  evening  cheerfully 
with  the  family  circle.  He  became 
worse  during  the  night  with  inflamma 
tion  of  the  throat.  He  was  seriously 
ill.  Having  sent  for  his  old  army  sur 
geon,  Dr.  Craik,  he  was  bled  by  his 
overseer,  and  again  on  the  arrival  of 
the  physician.  All  was  of  no  avail, 
and  he  calmly  prepared  to  die.  "I 
am  not  afraid,"  said  he,  "  to  go,"  while 
with  ever  thoughtful  courtesy  he 
thanked  his  friends  and  attendants 
for  their  little  attentions.  Thus  the 
day  wore  away,  till  ten  in  the  night, 
when  his  end  was  fast  approaching. 


He  noticed  the  failing  moments,  his 
last  act  being  to  place  his  hand  upon 
his  pulse,  and  calmly  expired.  It  was 
the  fourteenth  of  December,  1799. 
His  remains  were  interred  in  the  grave 
on  the  bank  at  Mount  Vernon,  in  front 
of  his  residence,  and  there,  in  no  long 
time,  according  to  her  prediction  at  the 
moment  of  his  death,  his  wife,  Martha, 
whose  miniature  he  always  wore  on  his 
breast,  was  laid  beside  him.  She  died 
within  three  years  of  her  husband,  at 
Mount  Vernon,  the  22d  of  May,  1802. 

We  need  not  follow  a  mourning  pub 
lic  in  their  sorrow  and  lamentations 
over  the  grave  of  Washington,  or  trace 
the  growing  admiration  which  attends 
his  name  throughout  the  world  wher 
ever  it  has  been  heard.  His  merits 
and  virtues  are  now  proudly  spoken  of 
and  dearly  reverenced  in  the  land  of 
his  ancestors,  against  which  he  led  the 
armies  of  his  countrymen.  Every  day 
it  is  felt  that  he  belongs  more  and 
more  to  the  world.  He  enjoys  that 
apotheosis  of  fame  awarded  to  the 
great  spirits  of  the  earth,  who  have 
been  chosen  by  Providence  to  grand 
national  duties ;  but  more  than  most 
of  them,  his  memory  is  the  reward  of  a 
life  of  piety  and  purity,  of  simple  faith 
and  justice,  of  unrelaxing  duty;  great 
in  its  acts,  greater  in  the  heart,  inspiring 
virtues  which  dictated  them. 


JOHN   ADAMS. 


THE  Adams  family,  with  whom  private 
and  public  worth  may  be  said  to  be 
hereditary,  may  be  traced  in  the  earliest 
annals  of  the  colony  of  Massachusetts 
to  Henry  Adams,  who,  in  1(340,  settled 
at  Braintrec.  His  son  Joseph  adhered 
to  the  place  through  a  long  life  and  left 
a  son  of  the  same  name  who  continued 
on  the  spot,  while  his  elder  brother  John, 
the  grandfather  of  the  celebrated  Sam 
uel  Adams,  removed  to  Boston.  This 
Joseph  last  mentioned  was  the  grand 
father  of  the  second  President  of  the 
United  States. 

John  Adams,  the  subject  of  this 
paper,  was  born  in  the  town  of  Brain- 
tree,  October  19, 1735.  His  father  was 
something  more  than  a  respectable, 
he  was  a  useful  citizen  of  the 
town ;  he  had  been  educated  at  Har 
vard  ;  held  the  offices  of  deacon  and 
selectman,  honoring  the  one  by  his 
piety  and  discharging  the  other  with 
fidelity,  and  according  to  a  habit  not 
unfrequent  with  small  property-holders 
in  New  England,  eked  out  the  re 
sources  of  his  farm  by  shoe-making. 
Taking  care  to  transmit  the  benefit 
which  he  had  received,  he  provided 
that  his  eldest  son,  John,  should  have 
the  advantage  of  a  college  education. 
He  was  prepared  for  Harvard  by  the 
aid  both  of  the  Congregational  minister 


and  of  the  Episcopal  reader  at  Brain- 
tree,  was  a  good  student  of  his  class, 
which  sent  many  eminent  men  into  the 
world,  and  in  due  time  graduated  at 
the  age  of  twenty  in  1755.  The  talent 
which  he  displayed  in  the  commence- 
|  ment  exercises,  attracted  the  notice  of  a 
person  present,  charged  with  a  commis 
sion  to  supply  a  Latin  master  for  the 
Grammar  School  of  Worcester.  lie 
applied  to  Adams,  who  undertook  the 
task,  and  shortly  after  set  out  on  the 
horse  sent  for  him  by  the  town's  people, 
making  the  sixty  miles'  journey  in  a 
single  day.  This  transfer  from  the 
home  sphere  was  highly  favorable  to 
his  development :  he  was  thrown  upon 
his  own  resources  among  strangers,  and 
doubtless  the  privations  and  little 
vexations  of  his  schoolmaster's  life, 
stimulated  his  independent  nature  to 
further  exertions. 

The  school  appears  at  first  to  have 
been  very  distasteful  to  his  aspiring 
mind ;  but  he  became  reconciled  to  its 
duties,  and  doubtless  profited  by  the 
discipline  which  he  himself  adminis 
tered.  "  I  find,"  says  he,  after  some 
months'  occupation  at  this  drudgery  in 
shaping  the  crude  material  of  the  Wor 
cester  nurseries,  "  I  find  by  repeated 
observation  and  experiment  in  my 
school,  that  human  nature  is  more 

85 


36 


JOHN    ADAMS. 


easily  wrought  upon  and  governed  by 
promises  and  encouragement  and  praise, 
than  by  punishment  and  threatening 
and  blame" — a  sentence  which  should 
be  grafted  in  the  memory  of  every 
schoolmaster  in  the  land. 

The  pedagogue  is  not  altogether 
given  over  to  mending  pens,  the  agree 
able  alternations  of  birching  and  ferul- 

O 

ing  or  a-b-c-ing  the  boys,  of  which  he 
humorously  complains,  but  finds  time 
to  store  his  mind  with  good  reading, 
makes  acquaintance  with  the  writings 
of  such  political  philosophers  as  Gor 
don  and  Bolingbroke,  and  is  ambitious 
of  the  society  of  the  place,  always  con 
scious  that  John  Adams  should  be 
somebody  in  the  world,  and  that  it  is 
but  an  act  of  common  justice  to  himself 
to  take  all  proper  means  to  secure  the 
position.  The  house  of  Colonel  James 
Putnam,  an  able  lawyer  of  the  place,  is 
open  to  him ;  thither  he  frequently 
resorts,  and  after  awhile,  the  law  secur 
ing  his  attention — he  had  by  this  time 
pretty  well  argued  himself  out  of  the 
New  England  orthodoxy,  and  so  given 
up  any  thoughts  of  the  pulpit — pro 
poses  to  study  the  profession  with  his 
friend.  Mr.  Putnam  consents,  and 
Mrs.  Putnam  makes  provision  in  the 
house  for  the  student,  who  is  also  to 
continue  in  charge  of  the  urchins  at  the 
school.  The  legal  apprenticeship  con 
tinues  two  years,  during  which  it  is  to 
be  regretted  that  the  Diary  is  silent, 
when  John  Adams  takes  leave  of  the 
population  of  Worcester,  little  and 
great,  to  se'ell  admission  to  the  Colonial' 
bar.  He  takes  up  his  residence  with 
his  father  at  Braintree,  or  Quincy,  as  it 
is  now  called,  at  the  old  paternal  dwell 


ing,  and  one  day  in  October,  1758, 
goes  to  Boston  to  be  introduced  by 
Attorney-General  Gridley,  the  father 
of  the  bar,  to  the  Superior  Court,  and 
is  admitted  Attorney  at  Law  in  his 
Majesty's  Courts  of  the  Province. 

The  attorney  relaxes  none  of  his  dili 
gence  in  attention  to  the  old  law,  in 
the  study  of  laborious  volumes,  over 
which  the  dust  has  long  gathered  in 
legal  libraries.  Those  were  the  days 
before  Blackstone,  when  no  republican 
road  had  been  marked  out  to  the  secret 
places  of  the  profession,  when  the 
maxim  of  Coke,  the  viginti  annorum 
lucubmtione-s,  was  still  in  vogue,  when 
no  Lord  Brougham  or  reviser  of  the 
statutes  had  risen  to  prepare  the  smooth 
pathway  of  legal  reform.  Reading  the 
entries  of  these  grave  old  studies,  bur 
dened  with  the  traditions  of  English 
centuries,  from  Bracton  and  Fleta,  Coke 
and  Fortescue,  we  may  ask,  "Where 
be  his  quiddets  now,  his  quillets,  his 
cases,  his  tenures,  and  his  tricks  2"  Gone 
with  the  old  wigs  and  colonial  state, 
and  we  need  sigh  no  alas!  at  the 
reminiscence. 

We  see  Adams,  in  these  years  of 
opening  manhood,  lighted  along  his 
daily  path  by  the  cheerful,  pleasant 
Diary,  the  man  of  the  world  and  of 
society,  emerging  from  the  old  formal 
ism  ;  the  independent  thinker,  built  on 
the  antiquarian  student,  as  he  gathers 
strength  from  discussion,  and  takes  the 
measure  of  the  leaders  of  that  clay.  He 
is  not  backward  in  entering  into  con 
troversy  with,  and  judging  some  of 
them,  but  he  retires  at  night  to  be  a 
more  rigid  censor  of  himself.  There  is 
a  sufficient  stock  of  vanity  in  some  of 


JOITX    ADAM.> 


87 


hi-*  revelations,  but  there  is  a  greater 
diiiidenee;  and  he  manages  to  blend  the 
t\vo  into  a  good  working  union,  dili 
gence  furnishing  the  bottom,  and  vanity 
being  only  the  spur  to  his  honorable 
career.  There  is  some  vainglory,  per 
haps,  in  his  writing  down,  even  pri 
vately  for  himself,  how  he  spent  his 
evenings  in  company  with  a  book  at 
the  fireside,  while  Doctor  Gardiner, 
Billy  Belcher,  Stephen  Cleverly,  the 
Quincys,  and  other  young  fellows  of 
the  town,  are  playing  cards  and  drink 
ing  punch  at  the  tables  :  but  it  is  not 
the  less  true  that  he  is  thereby  preparing 
himself  to  emerge  from  poverty,  receive 
fees,  bear  Parson  Smith's  daughter  as 
his  wife  to  his  home,  and  in  good  time 
support  the  duties  of  the  State.  Hav 
ing  mentioned  this  marriage,  we  may 
here,  a  little  out  of  date,  state  that  the 
event  occurred  in  October,  1764;  that 
the  lady,  the  fair  Abigail,  was  the 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  William  Smith, 
of  Weymouth,  and  grand-daughter  of 
Colonel  John  Quincy,  of  Mount  Wol- 
la-ton,  of  colonial  fame;  that  she  was 
young,  and  possessed  accomplishments 
in  intellect  and  reading,  proportioned 
to  his  own,  as  her  published  letters 
testify ;  and  that  the  union,  "  the  source 
of  all  his  felicity,"  continued  for  fifty- 
three  years,  having  its  only  pang  in 
absence  and  the  final  separation. 

We  are  now  to  trace  Adams'  politi 
cal  career.  It  began  with  his  offering 
public  resolutions  at  Braiutree,  and 
his  maintaining  an  argument  in  behalf 
of  the  town  of  Boston,  addressed  to  the 
Colonial  Government  in  opposition  to 
the  Stamp  Act.  He  published,  about 
the  same  date,  several  papers  in  the 


"  Boston  Gazette,"  which  wen-  reprinted 
in  London  by  Thomas  Ilollis,  who  gavo 
them  the  not  very  fortunate  title,  "  A 
Dissertation  on  the  Canon  and  the 
Feudal  Law,"  which  has  probably  pre 
vented  many  persons  looking  at  the 
tract,  who  would  be  interested  by  its 
review  of  the  principles  of  the  New 
England  settlements,  and  its  vigorous 
appeal  to  the  people  in  the  existing 
struggle.  Notwithstanding  he  was 
looked  to  as  a  leader  for  the  popular 
party,  he  had  no  sympathy  with  their 
acts  of  violence,  and  when  the  disturb 
ance  occurred  which  resulted  in  the 
firing  upon  the  people  by  the  British 
troops,  he  independently  and  humanely, 
a  thing  which  should  always  be  re 
membered  in  his  honor,  gave  his  ser 
vices  to  Preston  and  the  defence.  This 
caused  him  some  unpopularity,  but  did 
not  hinder  his  election,  immediately 
after,  to  the  General  Court,  as  the  legis 
lative  body  was  called  in  Massachu 
setts.  When  the  news  of  his  election 
was  brought  to  him,  he  made  his  first 
appearance  at  Faneuil  Hall,  and  ac 
cepted  the  choice.  It  was  the  turning 
point  of  his  career.  On  one  side  lay  a 
profitable  legal  practice,  in  a  routine 
dear  to  the  legal  mind  ;  on  the  other  a 
troubled  sea  of  opposition  and  revolt. 
A  popular  nominee  has  seldom  accepted 
an  election  with  less  of  satisfaction. 
"  I  considered  the  step,"  he  said,  "  as  a 
devotion  of  my  family  to  ruin  and  my 
self  to  death."  Mrs.  Adams  burst  into 
tears  at  the  event,  but  approved  the 
choice ;  the  duty  was  clear,  and  the 
rest  was  piously  left  to  Providence. 

He  was  now  a  resident  of  Boston, 
but  the  constant  labors  of  his  profes- 


88 


JOHN    ADAMS. 


sion,  and  the  confinement  of  the  city 
wearing  upon  his  health,  he  resigned 
his  seat  in  the  Legislature,  and  a2;ain 

O  /  O 

made  his  residence  in  Braintree,  having 
his  office  in  Boston,  His  studies, 
family  cares,  and  the  duties  of  his  pro 
fession,  had  thus  far,  rather  than  poli 
tics,  mainly  engaged  his  attention. 
The  time  was  come,  however,  when 
business  was  at  an  end,  and  home,  to 
be  enjoyed,  must  be  protected.  If  all 
the  leaders  of  opinion  did  not  speak 
openly  of  revolt  and  revolution,  there 
were  probably  few  of  them  who  did 
not  feel  that  they  were  drifting  rapidly 
towards  it. 

In  1774  he  was  appointed  by  the 
General  Court  one  of  the  Representa 
tives  to  the  Congress  at  Philadelphia; 
his  associates  being  Thomas  Cushing, 
Samuel  Adams,  and  his  troublesome 
old  friend,  "Bob,"  now  Robert  Treat 
Paine.  They  journeyed  together  in 
one  coach,  through  Hartford  and  New 
Haven  to  New  York.  At  New  York 
Adams  is  much  taken  with  McDougall, 
particularly  his  open  manners.  The 
delegates  are  received  with  hospitality, 
so  that  Adams  complains  of  not  being 
able  to  see  the  objects  of  interest  in  the 
town.  What  were  they  at  that  time  ? 
The  college,  the  churches,  printing 
offices,  and  booksellers'  shops ;  few  in 
deed  to  be  compared  with  the  present 
lions,  yet  relatively  great  to  the  people 
of  that  day. 

Passing  on  to  Princeton,  his  patriot 
ism  is  refreshed  by  a  conference  with 
President  Witherspoon,  "  as  high  a  son 
of  liberty  as  any  man  in  America." 
One  of  the  first  persons  he  is  introduced 
to  at  Philadelphia  is  Charles  Thomson, 


the  perpetual  Secretary  of  Congress, 
whom  he  understands  is  "the  Sam 
Adams  of  Philadelphia,  the  life  of  the 
cause  of  liberty ;"  a  valuable  testimony 
this,  by  the  way,  if  he  needed  such,  to 
the  popular  estimate  of  his  associate. 
The  business  of  the  Congress  at  once 
engages  his  attention.  He  has  to  study 
"  the  characters  and  tempers,  the  prin 
ciples  and  views  of  fifty  gentlemen, 
total  strangers,  and  the  trade,  policy 
and  whole  interest  of  a  dozen  provinces ; 
to  learn  and  practise  reserve  in  the  com 
munication  of  his  plans  and  wishes." 
The  discussions  are  tedious.  "Every 
man  is  a  great  man,  an  orator,  a  critic, 
a  statesman ;  and  therefore  every  man, 
upon  every  question,  must  show  his 
oratory,  his  criticism,  and  his  political 
abilities."  Yet  this  Congress  held 
Washington,  Jay,  Patrick  Henry, 
Samuel  Adams,  John  Dickinson,  Rich 
ard  Henry  Lee,  Rutledge,  Gadsden,  and 
other  notables,  and  men  learnt  to  sigh 
a  few  years  afterwards,  when  the  repre 
sentation  fell  into  neglect,  at  the  thought 
of  these  early  deliberative  giants.  In 
fact,  all  great  efforts  have  their  weari 
ness  ;  of  all  things  human,  there  is  none 
great  enough  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  the 
soul.  Adams,  with  the  rest,  did  his 
good  day's  work  discussing  a  Declara 
tion  of  Rights,  confronting  Galloway, 
the  projector  of  a  plan  for  union  with 
England,  debating  the  non-importation 
resolutions,  consulting  with  Patrick 
Henry  on  the  Petition  to  the  King, 
and  when  the  long  morning  work  is 
over,  dining  and  feasting  with  the 
wealthy  citizens  of  Philadelphia,  in 
admiration  at  the  costly  entertainments, 
and  a  little  surprised  that  he  is  not 


JOHN    ADAMS. 


39 


!c(l  l.y  the   unusual   libations  of 
Madeira. 

Returning    Lome    to    Massachusetts 

O 

after  the  short  session  of  this  body,  he 
is  chosen  to  the  Provincial  Congress, 
already  quite  busy  with  revolt,  and 
when  this  duty  is  discharged,  turns  his 
pen  to  answer  the  annoying  Tory  argu 
ments  of  Massachusettensis,  Daniel 
Leonard,  as  it  afterwards  appeared,  who 
was  greatly  dire-ring  the  hearts  of  the 
administration  men  in  the  colonies  by 
his  logical  efforts  in  the  "  Gazette  and 
Postboy."  The  replies  of  Adams, 
signed  Novanglus,  covering  the  old 
lecral  and  historical  issues,  twelve  in 

o 

number,  accomplished  something  of  a 
diversion,  or  as  the  author  afterwards 
expressed  it,  "  had  the  effect  of  an  anti 
dote  -to  the  poison."  There  were 
several  unpublished  in  the  printer's 
hands,  when  the  Battle  of  Lexington 
"changed  the  instruments  of  warfare 
from  the  pen  to  the  sword."  Three 
weeks  afterwards  he  was  at  Philadel 
phia  at  the  Second  Congress,  in  1775. 
Before  his  departure  from  Boston,  he 
had  visited  the  camp  at  Cambridge,  and 
observed  its  necessities.  Early  on  the 
assembling  of  Congress,  he  proposed 
Washington  for  Commander-in-Chief; 
"  the  modest  and  virtuous,  the  amiable, 
generous  and  brave,"  as  he  calls  him  in 
a  letter  to  his  wife,  and  has  the  satisfac 
tion  of  accompanying  him  a  little  way 
out  of  Philadelphia  towards  his  distant 
command.  Franklin,  who  had  recently 
bid  farewell  to  England,  was  also  a 
member  of  this  body. 

During  the  first  session  of  this  Con 
gress,  Adams  was  diligently  employed 
in  the  preparatory  measures  which  led 


to  the  Declaration  of  Independence  and 

Confederation  of  the  following  year. 
^ 

As  the  time  approached,  his  activity 
and  boldness  were  displayed  as  the  full 
grandeur  of  the  scenes  rose  to  his  mind. 
"  Objects,"  he  wrote  to  William  Cush- 
ing,  "of  the  most  stupendous  magni 
tude,  and  measures  in  which  the  lives 
and  liberties  of  millions  yet  unborn 
are  intimately  interested,  are  now  be 
fore  us."  "  Yesterday,"  he  writes  to  his 
wife,  on  the  third  of  July,  1776,  on 
the  passage  of  Lee's  Resolution  of  In 
dependence,  "  the  greatest  question  was 
decided  which  ever  was  debated  in 
America,  and  a  greater,  perhaps,  never 
was  nor  will  be  decided  among  men ;" 
and  again  the  same  day,  in  another  let 
ter  to  Mrs.  Adams,  a  remarkable  pro 
phetic  passage — "The  second  day  of 
July,  1770,  will  be  the  most  memorable 
epoch  in  the  history  of  America.  I  am 
apt  to  believe  that  it  will  be  celebrated 
by  succeeding  generations  as  the  great 
Anniversary  Festival.  It  ought  to 
be  commemorated,  as  the  day  of  deli 
verance,  by  solemn  acts  of  devotion 
to  God  Almighty.  It  ought  to  be 
solemnized  with  pomp  and  parade,  with 
shows,  games,  sports,  guns,  bells,  bon 
fires  and  illuminations,  from  one  end  of 
this  continent  to  the  other,  from  this 
time  forward,  forevennore." 

Adams  was  on  the  committee  for  pre 
paring  the  Declaration,  and  was  active 
in  the  debate.  In  the  absence  of  the 
present  system  of  executive  duties  of 
government,  the  old  Congress  was  com 
pelled  to  resort  to  the  awkward  ex 
pedient  of  boards,  in  which  the  honoi 
and  efficiency,  rather  than  the  toil,  were 
diminished  by  the  division  of  labor 


40 


JOHN    ADAMS. 


Adams  was  made  chairman  of  the 
Board  of  War,  and  was  much  employed 
in  military  affairs  till  his  departure 
from  Congress  at  the  close  of  the  next 
year. 

In  November,  1777,  Congress,  having 
become  dissatisfied  with  the  manage 
ment  of  Silas  Dean,  in  France,  appoint 
ed  Adams  in  his  place.  He  set  sail  in 
the  frigate  Boston  in  the  ensuing 
February,  from  Boston,  accompanied 
by  his  son,  John  Quincy,  then  a  boy 
of  ten.  The  voyage  was  diversified  by 
a  chase  and  a  storm,  and  the  usual 
incidents  of  navigation.  Adams,  as 
we  learn  from  his  Diary,  employed 
himself  in  observations  of  the  disci 
pline,  the  care  of  the  men,  and  other 
points  of  naval  regulation  for  which  he 
had  an  eye  from  his  duties  in  Congress. 
After  a  voyage  of  some  six  weeks, 
escaping  the  dreaded  perils  of  the 
British  cruisers,  he  was  landed  safely 
at  Bordeaux.  At  Paris  he  took  up  his 
residence  under  the  same  roof  with  Dr. 
Franklin,  and  was  shortly  introduced 
by  him  to  Vergennes  and  Maurepas. 
The  domestic  diplomacy  of  the  com 
missioners  was  at  first  sio-ht  more 

O 

formidable  than  that  of  the  court. 
They  were  quite  at  odds  with  one  ano 
ther.  Lee  with  Franklin  and  Deane, 
the  general  mischief-monger  of  the 

o  o 

party.  Adams  saw  the  source  of  the 
difficulty  in  the  mingling  of  diplomatic, 
commercial,  and  pecuniary  transactions, 
and  advised  that  these  duties  should 
be  divided.  In  accordance  with  his 
suggestions,  Congress  made  the  divi 
sion,  creating  Franklin  minister  at 
Paris,  and  sending  Arthur  Lee  to 
Madrid.  Oddly  enough,  Adams,  the 


mover  of  the  resolution,  was  left  out 
of  the  programme  entirely.  Finding 
nothing  to  do  in  the  way  of  govern 
ment  employ,  and  indisposed  to  be  an 
idle  observer  of  the  Parisians,  though 

'  O 

he  envies  his  "  venerable  colleague,"  as 

o         / 

he  calls  Franklin,  then  seventy,  his 
privileges  with  the  ladies,  and  is  rea 
dily  pleased  with  the  sights  about  him, 
he  is  bent  upon  returning  home,  and 
an  opportunity  at  length  offering  itself 
in  the  departure  of  the  French  ambas 
sador,  the  Chevalier  de  la  Luzerne,  he 
sets  sail  from  Lorient,  June  17, 


The  frigate  Sensible  arrived  at  Bos- 

o 

ton  on  the  second  of  August  ;  within  a 
week  he  was  elected  by  his  towns 
people,  of  Braintree,  their  delegate  to 
the  Convention  to  frame  a  Constitution 
for  Massachusetts.  The  honor  and 
responsibility  of  much  of  the  work  fell 
into  his  hands  ;  but  before  it  was  com 
pleted,  he  was  again  summoned  to  the 
foreign  service  of  his  country,  as  minis 
ter  to  negotiate  with  Great  Britain. 
Embarking  in  the  Sensible,  the  French 

O  ' 

frigate  in  which  he  had  returned,  he 
was  landed  in  Gallicia,  travelled  thence 
through  Spain  to  Bayonne,  a  journey  of 
which  his  Diary  gives  an  interesting  ac 
count,  and  arrived  at  Paris  in  February, 
1780.  Obstacles  were  here  thrown  in 
the  way  of  his  negotiation  with  England 
by  the  minister,  Vergennes,  who  wished 
to  keep  the  foreign  policy  of  America 
under  his  control  in  subordination  to 
French  interests.  The  influence  which 
the  important  aid  rendered  to  America 
by  the  French  government  had  given 
to  her  councils,  occasioned  much  em 
barrassment  in  the  adjustment  of  the 
treaty  with  England.  It  is  a  painful 


JOHN     ADAMS. 


41 


portion  of  the  history  of  America,  this 
conflict  of  intrigue  and  benefits,  of 
love  of  America  and  hatred  of  Eng 
land ;  of  Lafayette  and  Vergennes, 
smoothed  over  by  the  gratitude  of 
Congress  and  the  compliments  of  the 
monarchy,  to  break  out  into  insidious 
plotting  and  open  assault  under  the 
Revolution.  This  French  imbroglio  is 
henceforth  to  give  John  Adams  a  vast 
deal  of  trouble.  Vergennes  suspects 
his  fidelity  to  the  French  anti- Anglican 
policy,  and  Adams,  with  Jay,  thinks 
the  Frenchman  will  sacrifice  the  inter 
ests  of  America,  The  negotiations 
are  finally  brought  to  a  close  by  a 
body  of  commissioners  charged  with 
the  work,  embracing  Adams,  Franklin, 
Jay,  Jeiferson,  and  Laurens.  In  the 
meantime,  Adams  is  busy  in  Holland, 
cultivating  the  Dutch  capitalists,  pre 
paring  the  way  for  a  loan  and  a  treaty 
of  alliance.  That  his  country  may  b£ 
put  upon  a  proper  footing  for  these 
negotiations,  he  employs  his  pen  in 
John  Luzac's  "  Leyden  Gazette,"  an 
organ  of  much  service  to  America  in 
the  Revolution,  and  takes  other  means 
of  disseminating  correct  information. 
That  his  articles  might  have  more 
authority,  he  sent  the  communication 
to  be  first  published  in  an  English 
journal,  that  they  might  be  thence  trans 
ferred  to  the  Dutch  Gazette.  He  also 
drew  up  a  series  of  replies  to  the 
inquiries  of  a  gentleman  of  Holland 
touching  American  affairs,  which  have 
been  often  published,  and  which  now 
appear  in  the  collection  of  his  writings 
with  the  title,  "Twenty-six  letters  upon 
interesting  subjects  respecting  the  Re 
volution  of  America."  The  prospects 
6 


of  a  loan  were  broken  up  for  a  time  by 
the  war  between  Holland  arid  KIIL'- 
land,  in  which  an  alleged  alliance  with 
America,  which  did  not  exist,  was 
made  the  pretence  of  wanton  aggres 
sion.  But  Adams,  single-handed,  per 
severed.  He  was  presently  reinforced 
by  special  authority  from  home,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  at  last,  not  only  of 
procuring  a  valuable  loan,  but  of  secur 
ing  the  recognition  of  his  country  by 
Holland  as  an  independent  power. 
This  treaty  of  alliance  was  completed 
in  October,  1782. 

In  the  month  following  the  conclu- 

O 

sion  of  the  negotiations  in  Holland, 
Adams,  with  Jay  and  Franklin,  signed, 
at  Paris,  the  preliminary  articles  of 
peace  with  England.  He  shared  with 
Jay  his  suspicions  of  Vergennes ;  and 
Franklin,  being  led  by  their  convic 
tions,  the  responsibility  was  taken  of 
carrying  on  the  negotiation  independ 
ently  of  France,  and  even  contrary  to 
the  orders  of  Congress.  The  definitive 
treaty  was  not  signed  till  the  next 
September.  When  Adams  had  put  his 
signature  to  this  important  instrument, 
he  immediately  set  out  for  England  to 
regain  his  health,  which  had  been  much 
impaired  by  his  confinement  and  labors 
and  a  recent  severe  illness.  His  visit 
at  this  time  was  unofficial.  lie  appears 
to  have  enjoyed  with  his  usual  zest  the 
sights  of  the  .metropolis,  in  procuring 
admission  to  which  he  found  his  coun 
tryman,  Benjamin  West,  as  influential 
as  a  prime  minister.  In  the  lobby  of 
the  House  of  Lords  he  had  the  gratifica 
tion  of  hearing  the  gentleman  usher  of 
the  black  rod  "roar  out  with  a  very 
loud  voice,  where  is  Mr.  Adams,  Lord 


42 


JOHN    ADAMS. 


Mansfield's  friend  ?"  The  painter,  West, 
remembering  the  denunciations  of  Mur 
ray  against  his  country  in  that  same 
House  of  Lords,  said  to  Adams,  "  this 
is  one  of  the  finest  finishings  in  the 
picture  of  American  Independence." 

His  next  diplomatic  employment 
was  as  a  commissioner  with  Franklin 
and  Jefferson,  to  negotiate  treaties  of 
peace  with  the  European  nations. 
These  engagements  abroad  having  now 
assumed  something  of  a  permanent  cha 
racter,  he  was  joined  by  Mrs.  Adams, 
whom  he  hastened  from  the  Conti 
nent,  on  her  arrival  in  England,  to  con 
duct  to  his  residence  at  Auteuil,  in  the 
suburb  of  Paris,  in  the  summer  of  1*784. 
In  February,  1785,  Congress  appoints 
John  Adams  the  first  American  minister 
to  Great  Britain,  and  in  May  he  is  in 
stalled  in  the  English  capital.  Friendly 
as  his  reception  by  the  king  appears 
to  have  been,  it  was  not  followed  by 
a  fair  reciprocity  towards  America. 
Peace  had  indeed  been  made,  and  the 
minister  received,  but  Congress  was 
honored  by  no  British  representative 
calling  at  her  doors.  The  relations  of 
the  two  countries  were  in  fact  yet  of 
the  most  unsettled  character;  questions 
of  commercial  intercourse,  of  a  restric 
tive  nature,  were  pressed  against  the 
Americans ;  the  western  posts  were  re 
tained  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  unsettled 
relations  of  the  States  to  one  another  at 
home,  were  at  variance  with  a  just  and 
dignified  foreign  policy.  After  weather 
ing  for  awhile  these  disheartening  con 
ditions,  Adams,  having  rendered  such 
services  as  he  could  to  his  country  in  a 
new  loan  negotiation  with  Holland  and 
conferences  with  his  fellow-commis 


sioner,  Jefferson,  at  Paris,  tired  of  the 
ineffectual  struggle  with  difficulties  and 
against  prejudice,  at  the  close  of  1787, 
requested  his  recall.  His  time,  how 
ever,  had  not  been  altogether  taken  up 
with  these  foreign  affairs.  His  famous 
work,  the  "  Defence  of  the  Constitutions 
of  Government  of  the  United  States  of 
America,"  was  produced  at  this  period. 
It  grew  out  of  some  remarks  by  the 
French  philosopher,  Turgot,  on  the 
Constitutions  of  the  State  in  which  the 
adoption  of  English  usages  was  objected 
to,  and  preference  given  to  a  single 
authority  of  the  nation  or  assembly 
over  a  balanced  system  of  powers. 
Adams  extended  the  work  to  three 
volumes,  in  which  he  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  subject  a  vast  amount  of 
political  reading,  particularly  in  refer 
ence  to  the  Italian  Republics.  The 
effect  of  this  long  discussion,  like  that 
of  its  sequel,  the  Discourses  on  Davila, 
is  much  weakened  by  its  form,  for 
Adams,  with  much  spirit  as  a  writer,  is 
defective  in  his  longer  works  in  manner 
and  method.  If  his  style  of  writing 
had  been  formed  iu  early  life,  like  that 
of  Franklin  and  Madison,  upon  the 
reading  of  the  Spectator  instead  of  the 
declamations  of  Bolingbroke,  in  so  far 
as  study  can  modify  the  genius  of  a 
man,  his  works  would  have  been  better 
for  the  training.  John  Adams  loses  as 
much  as  Franklin  gains  by  his  way 
of  putting  a  thing  in  his  writings. 
The  spring  of  1788  restored  him 
again  to  his  native  land.  It  was  the 
period  of  the  adoption  of  the  Federal 
Constitution,  and  when  that  instrument 
went  fully  into  effect  in  the  meeting  of 
the  first  Congress  at  New  York,  he  was 


JOHN    ADAMS. 


43 


found  to  be  chosen  Vice-President,  re 
ceiving  the  greatest  number  of  votes  of 
the  electors  next  to  Washington.  He 
received  thirty-four  out  of  sixty-nine, 
the  vote  of  Washington  being  unani 
mous.  He  held  this  office,  presiding  in 
the  Senate,  during  both  terms  of  Wash 
ington's  administration,  to  which  he 

O  ' 

gave  active  and  often  important  assist 
ance.  In  IT 9 7,  he  succeeded  to  the 
Presidency  by  a  vote  of  seventy-one 
over  the  sixty-eight  of  Jefferson.  He 
found  the  country  in  imminent  danger 
of  a  conflict  with  France.  The  prin 
ciples  of  an  English  or  French  alliance" 
were  the  tests  of  the  party  politics  of 
the  times.  Jay's  Treaty,  sanctioning 
the  neutrality  policy  of  Washington, 
had  indeed  been  adopted  by  Congress, 
but  after  a  struggle  which  left  many 
elements  of  opposition.  The  full  force 
of  these  was  directed  against  the 
Federal  party,  of  which  Adams  was 
now  the  official  representative.  He 
was  destined  to  receive  aid,  however, 
from  an  unexpected  quarter.  The  as 
sumptions  and  aggressions  of  the 
French  Directory,  on  the  arrival  of 
Marshall  and  Gerry,  as  negotiators, 
developed  a  new  phase  of  villainy  in  a 
contemptuous  effort  to  bribe  the  Ame 
rican  Commissioners.  This  insult  at 
length  opened  the  eyes  and  roused  the 
spirit  of  the  nation.  Adams  was  for 
awhile  exceedingly  popular ;  addresses 
were  poured  in  upon  him,  the  countiy 
armed,  commissioned  a  navy,  Washing 
ton  was  again  called  into  the  field,  and 
with  Hamilton  at  his  side,  arranged 
means  of  military  defence.  Thus  far 
he  was  with  the  strong  anti-Gallican 
Federal  party.  He  was  thought,  how 


ever,  to  fall  off  from  it  in  some  of  his 
measures  for  reconciliation  with  France, 
which,  however,  by  the  .turn  which 
placed  Napoleon  in  authority,  had  a 
successful  issue;  some  of  the  acts  of  his 
administration,  as  the  Alien  and  Sedi 
tion  laws,  were  powerful  instruments 
with  an  unscrupulous  opposition,  and 
he  had,  moreover,  to  bear  the  disaffec 
tion  of  Hamilton.  There  was  little 
liberality  or  charity  for  defects  of  taste 
and  temper.  The  embarrassments  aris 
ing  from  these  things  clouded  his 

O  O 

administration,  which  closed  with  a 
single  term,  and  the  obstinate  struggle 
which  resulted  in  the  election  of  Jeffer 
son.  A  private  affliction,  in  the  loss 
of  his  second  son,  Charles,  came  also  at 
this  moment,  to  darken  the  shades  of 
his  retirement.  He  had  no  heart  to 
witness  the  inauguration  of  his  suc 
cessor,  and  left  Washington  abruptly 
for  Quincy. 

His  biographer  tells  us,  as  an  index 
of  his  privacy,  that  while  the  year 
before  his  letters  could  be  counted  by 
thousands,  those  of  his  first  year  after 
were  scarcely  a  hundred^  Like  Jay's 
protracted  age  at  Bedford,  his  was  a  long 
retirement,  but  Adams  had  not  in  his 
disposition  the  quietude  of  Jay.  The 
restlessness,  the  activity  of  pursuit 
which  had  driven  the  poor  New  Eng 
land  boy  to  the  thrones  of  monarchs, 
and  had  seated  him  in  the  Presidency 
of  the  Republic,  was  not  to  subside 
without  a  murmur.  The  old  statesman 
enjoyed  a  vicarious  public  life  in  the 
rapid  advancement  of  his  son  in  the 
councils  of  his  country  to  the  Presi 
dency;  the  irritations  of  controversy 
lent  their  aid  to  agitate  the  torpor  of 


44 


JOHN    ADAMS. 


political  neglect,  in  the  series  of  letters 
vindicating  his  course,  which  he  pub 
lished  in  the  "Boston  Patriot;"  while 
he  occasionally  revived  for  himself  and 
the  eye  of  posterity,  past  scenes  of  his 
history  in  an  Autobiography.  In  1 8 1 8, 
in  his  eighty-third  year,  his  wife,  his 
"  dearest  friend,"  the  gentle  and  ac 
complished,  one  of  the  mothers  of 
America,  full  of  the  sweetest  and  grand 
est  memories  of  the  past,  was  taken 
from  him.  His  last  public  service  was 
in  occasional  attendance  at  the  Conven 
tion  of  Massachusetts  for  the  formation 
of  a  new  Constitution,  when  he  was 
eighty-five.  He  was  not  able  to  say, 
but  he  made  his  wish  known,  that  the 
new  instrument  should  express  perfect 
religious  tolerance.  It  was  the  liberal 
creed  of  his  youth ;  it  had  been  grow 
ing  stronger  with  his  age.  Returning 
to  his  early  friendship,  he  corresponded 
with  Jefferson.  The  two  venerable 
fathers  of  the  Republic,  Jefferson  at  the 
age  of  eighty-three,  John  Adams  at 
that  of  ninety,  died  together  on  the 
birthday  of  the  nation,  July  4th,  1826. 
A  few  days  before  his  death,  the  orator 
of  his  native  town  of  Quincy,  where  he 
lay  in  his  home,  called  upon  Adams  for 
a  toast,  to  be  presented  at  the  approach 
ing  anniversary.  "Independence  for 
ever  !"  was  the  reply.  As  the  senti 
ment  was  delivered  at  the  banquet, 
amidst  ringing  plaudits,  the  soul  of  the 
dying  patriot  was  passing  from  earth 
to  eternity. 

We  have  brought  the  long  and  busy 
life  to  a  close,  from  boyhood  to  four 
score  and  ten.  A  nation  has  been  born 


in  that  time,  and  one  of  its  founders, 
after  reaching  its  summit  of  authority, 
has  seen  his  son  at  its  head.  We  have 
the  fullest  revelations  of  this  man.  It 
was  his  passion  not  only  to  be  em 
ployed  in  great  events,  but  to  write 
down  the  least  of  himself.  We  have 
his  books,  learned  tomes,  his  official  and 
personal  Correspondence,  his  Reminis 
cences,  his  Diary,  his  Autobiography, 
the  domestic  letters  of  his  wife.  He 
was  bent  upon  declaring  himself  in 
every  form.  What  is  the  impression  ? 
Upon  the  whole,  of  a  man  of  active 
conscientious  mind,  employed  from 
youth  in  study  and  thought ;  diligent 
in  affairs ;  lacking  some  of  the  judicious 
arts  of  the  writer  and  statesman,  which 
might  have  better  set  off  his  fair  fame 
with  the  world.  The  formative  period 
of  his  life,  his  early  professional  train 
ing,  has  a  better  lesson  for  the  youth 
of  his  country  than  that  of  Franklin, 
for  it  has  fewer  errata.  Egotism  is 
sometimes  apparent,  but  it  led  him  to 
know  as  well  as  proclaim  himself.  His 
sensibility  may  occasionally  be  taken 
for  vanity,  but  it  is  oftener  the  indica 
tion  of  true  feeling.  Had  he  been 
more  cautious,  he  might  have  possessed 
less  heart.  He  had  his  weaknesses. 
He  was  passionate,  we  are  told,  but 
forgiving ;  serious  in  manner,  but  capa 
ble  of  genial  relaxation;  of  a  disposition 
answering  to  his  frame  and  look,  with 
more  of  solidity  than  elevation  ;  some 
thing  of  the  sensual,  relieved  by  a  touch 
of  humor,  about  him ;  nothing  of  the 
idealist :  a  broad,  capacious  head,  capa 
ble  of  assertion  and  action. 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


IN  his  Autobiography,  written  to 
wards  the  close  of  his  life,  the  author 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
thinking  doubtless  his  new  political 
career  a  better  passport  to  fame  with 
posterity  than  any  conditions  of  an 
cestry  in  the  old  society  which  he  had 
superseded,  while  he  could  not  be  in 
sensible  to  the  worth  of  a  respectable 
family  history,  says  of  the  Randolphs, 
from  whom  he  was  descended  on  the 
mother's  side,  "they  trace  their  pedi 
gree  far  back  in  England  and  Scotland, 
to  which  let  every  one  ascribe  the  faith 
and  merit  he  chooses."  Whatever 
value  may  be  set  by  his  biographers 
upon  an  ancient  lineage,  they  cannot 
overlook  the  fact — most  important  in 
its  influence  upon  his  future  history— 
that  he  was  introduced  by  his  family 
relationships  at  birth  into  a  sphere  of 
life  iii  Virginia,  which  gave  him  many 
social  advantages.  The  leveller  of  the 
old  aristocracy  was  by  no  means  a  self- 
made  man  of  the  people,  struggling  up 
ward  through  difficulty  and  adversity. 
His  father,  Peter  Jefferson,  belonged  to 
a  family  originally  from  Wales,  which 
had  been  among  the  first  settlers  of  the 
colony.  In  1619,  one  of  the  name  was 
seated  in  the  Assembly  at  Jamestown, 
the  first  legislative  body  of  Europeans, 
it  is  said,  that  ever  met  in  the  New 


World.  The  particular  account  of  the 
family  begins  with  the  grandfather  of 
Thomas  Jefferson,  who  owned  some 
lands  in  Chesterfield  County.  His 
third  son,  Peter,  established  himself  as 
a  planter  on  certain  lands  which  he  had 
"  patented,"  or  come  into  possession  of 
by  purchase,  in  Albemarle  County,  in 
the  vicinity  of  Carter's  Mountain,  where 
the  Rivanua  makes  its  way  through  the 
Range ;  and  about  the  time  of  his 
settlement  married  Jane,  daughter  of 
Isham  Randolph,  of  Dungeness,  in 
Goochland  County,  of  the  eminent  old 
Virginia  race,  to  which  allusion  has 
already  been  made,  a  stock  which  has 
extended  its  branches  through  every 
department  of  worth  and,  excellence  in 
the  State.  Isham  Randolph  was  a  man 
of  talent  and  education,  as  veil  as 
noted  for  the  hospitality  practised  by 
every  gentleman  of  his  wealthy  posi 
tion.  His  memory  is  gratefully  pre 
served  in  the  correspondence  of  the 
naturalists,  Collinson  and  Bartrarn.  * 
The  latter  was  commended  to  his  care 
in  one  of  his  scientific  tours,  and  en 
joyed  his  hearty  welcome.  His  daugh 
ter,  Jane,  we  are  told,  "possessed  a 
most  amiable  and  affectionate  disposi 
tion,  a  lively,  cheerful  temper,  and  a 
great  fund  of  humor,"  qualities  which 
ha<l  their  influence  tipon  her  son:s  char- 


45 


46 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


acter.  Her  marriage  to  Peter  Jefferson 
took  place  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  and 
the  fruit  of  this  union,  the  third  child 
and  first  son,  was  Thomas,  the  subject 
of  this  sketch.  He  was  born  at  the 
new  family  location  at  Shadwell,  April 
2  (old  style),  4743^ 

Peter  Jefferson,  the  father,  was  a 
model  man  for  a  frontier  settlement, 
tall  in  stature,  of  extraordinary  strength 
of  body,  capable  of  enduring  any 
fatigue  in  the  wilderness,  with  cor 
responding  health  and  vigor  of  mind. 
He  was  educated  as  a  surveyor,  and 
in  this  capacity  engaged  in  a  govern 
ment  commission  to  draw  the  boundary 
line  between  Virginia  and  North  Caro 
lina.  Two  years  before  his  death, 
which  occurred  suddenly  in  his  fiftieth 
year,  in  175*7,  he  was  chosen  a  member 
of  the  House  of  Burgesses.  His  son 
was  then  only  fourteen,  but  he  had 
already  derived  many  impressions  from 
the  instructions  and  example  of  his 
father,  and  considerable  resemblance  is 
traced  between  them.  Mr.  Randall,  in 
his  biography,  notices  the  inheritance 
of  physical  strength,  of  a  certain  plain 
ness  of  manners,  and  honest  love  of 
independence,  even  of  a  fondness  for 
reading — for  the  stalwart  surveyor  was 
accustomed  to  solace  his  leisure  with 
•his  Spectator  and  his  Shakspeare. 

The  son  was  early  sent  to  school,  and, 
before  his  father's  death,  was  instructed 
in  the  elements  of  Greek,  and  Latin, 
and  French,  by  Mr.  Douglass,  a  Scottish 
clergyman.  It  was  his  parent's  dying 
wish  that  he  should  receive  a  good 
classical  education ;  and  the  seed  prov 
ed  to  be  sown  in  a  good  soil.  The  les 
sons  which  the  youth  had  already 're 


ceived,  were  resumed  under  the  excel 
lent  instruction  of  the  Rev.  James 
Maury,  at  his  residence,  and  thence,  in 
1760,  the  pupil  passed  to  William  and 
Mary  College.  He  was  now  in  his 
eighteenth  year,  a  tall,  thin  youth,  of  a 
ruddy  complexion,  his  hair  inclining 
to  red,  an  adept  in  manly  and  rural 
sports,  a  good  dancer,  something  of  a 
musician,  full  of  vivacity.  It  is  worth 
noticing,  that  the  youth  of  Jefferson 
was  of  a  hearty,  joyous  character. 

Williamsburg,  also,  the  seat  of  the 
college,  was  then  anything  but  a  scho 
lastic  hermitage  for  the  mortification  of 
youth.  In  winter,  during  the  session 
of  the  court  and  the  sittings  of  the 
colonial  legislature,  it  was  the  focus  of 
provincial  fashion  and  gaiety ;  and 
between  study  and  dissipation  the 
ardent  young  Jefferson  had  before  him 
the  old  problem  of  good  and  evil  not 
always  leading  to  the  choice  of  virtue. 
It  is  to  the  credit"  of  his  manly  percep 
tions  and  healthy  tastes,  even  then, 
that  while  he  freely  partook  of  the 
amusements  incidental  to  his  station 
and  time  of  life,  he  kept  his  eye  stead 
ily  on  loftier  things.  "  It  was  my  great 
good  fortune,"  he  says  in  his  Autobio 
graphy,  "  and  what  probably  fixed  the 
destinies  of  my  life,  that  Dr.  William 
Small,  of  Scotland,  was  then  professor 
of  mathematics,  a  man  profound  in 
most  of  the  useful  branches  of  science, 
with  a  happy  talent  of  communication, 
correct  and  gentlemanly  manners,  and 
an  enlarged  and  liberal  mind."  His 
instructions,  communicated  not  only  in 
college  hours,  but  in  familiar  personal 
intimacy,  warmed  the  young  student 
with  his  first,  as  it  became  his  constant, 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


passion  for  natural  science.  This  happy 
instructor  also  gave  a  course  of  lec 
tures  in  ethics  and  rhetoric,  which  were 
doubtless  equally  profitable  to  his 

young  pupil  in  the  opening  of  his 
mind  to  knowledge.  He  had  also  an 
especial  fondness  for  mathematics, 
"  reading  off  its  processes  with  the 
facility  of  common  discourse."  lie 
sometimes  studied,  in  his  second  year, 
fifteen  hours  a  day,  taking  exercise  in  a 
brisk  walk  of  a  mile  at  evening. 

Jefferson  was  only  two  years  at 
college,  but  his  education  was  happily 
continued  in  his  immediate  entrance 
upon  the  study  of  the  law  with  George 
Wythe,  the  memorable  chancellor  of 
Virginia,  of  after  days,  to  whom  he 
was  introduced  by  Dr.  Small,  and  of 
whose  personal  qualities — his  temper 
ance  and  suavity,  his  logic  and  elo 
quence,  his  disinterested  public  virtue 
—he  wrote  a  worthy  eulogium.  The 
same  learned  friend  also  made  him 
acquainted  with  Governor  Fauquier, 
then  in  authority,  "  the  ablest  man," 
says  Jefferson,  "  who  ever  filled  the 
office."  At  his  courtly  table  the  four 
met  together  in  familiar  and  liberal 
conversation.  It  was  a  privilege  to 
the  youth  of  the  first  importance, 
bringing  him,  at  the  outset,  into  a 
sphere  of  public  life  which  he  was 
destined  afterwards,  in  Europe  and 
America,  so  greatly  to  adorn.  He 
passed  five  years  in  the  study  of  the 
law  at  "VVilliamsburg,  and,  without 
intermitting  his  studies,  at  his  home  at 
Shadwell.  Nor,  diligent  as  he  was,  is 
it  to  be  supposed  that  his  time  was 
altogether  spent  in  study.  He  yet 
found  leisure,  as  his  early  telltale  cor 


respondence  with  his  friend  Page,  after 
wards  Governor  of  Virginia,  shows,  to 
harbor  a  fond  attachment  for  a  fair 
"  Belinda,"  as  he  called  her,  reversing 
the  letters  of  the  name  and  writing 
them  in  Greek,  or  playing  upon  the 
word  in  Latin.  The  character  of  the 
young  lady,  Miss  Rebecca  Burwell,  of 
an  excellent  family,  does  credit  to  his 
attachment,  for  it  was  marked  by  its 
religious  enthusiasm,  but  nothing  came 
of  it  beyond  a  boyish  disappointment.1 
In  1707  he  was  introduced  to  the 
bar  of  the  General  Court  of  Virginia 
by  his  friend  Mr.  Wythe,  and  imme 
diately  entered  on  a  successful  career 
of  practice,  interrupted  only  by  the 
Revolution.  His  memorandum  books, 
which  he  kept  minutely  and  diligently 
as  Washington  himself,  show  how 
extensively  he  was  employed  in  these 
seven  years;  while  the  directions  which 
he  gave  in  later  life  to  young  students, 
exhibit  a  standard  of  application,  which 
he  had  no  doubt  followed  himself,  of 
the  utmost  proficiency.  His  "  sufficient 
groundwork  "  for  the  study  of  the  law 
includes  a  liberal  course  of  mathe 
matics,  natural  philosophy,  ethics,  rhet 
oric,  politics,  and  history.  His  pur 
suit  of  the  science  itself  ascended 
to  the  antique  founts  of  the  profes 
sion.  He  was  a  well-trained,  skill- 
ful  lawyer,  an  adept  in  the  casuis- 
tiy™of  Tegal  questions — more  distin 
guished,  however,  for  his  ability  in 


1  Mr.  John  Esten  Cooke,  of  Virginia,  author  of  the 
eminently  judicious  biography  of  Jefferson  in  Appleton's 
new  Cyclopaedia,  has  sketched  this  love  affair  In  R  plea 
sant  paper  on  the  "  Early  years  of  Thomas  Jefferson." 
The  "Fnge"  correspondence  U  printed  in  Professor 
Tucker's  life  of  Jefferson. 


48 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


argument  than  for  his  power  as  an 
advocate.  He  was  throughout  life 
little_qf^  an  orator,  and  we  shall  find 
him  hereafter,  in  scenes  where  elo 
quence  was  peculiarly  felt,  more  power 
ful  in  the  committee  room  than  in 
debate. 

His  first  entrance  on  political  life 
was  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  in  1Y69, 
when  he  was  sent  to  the  House  of 
Burgesses  from  the  county  of  Albe- 
maiie,  the  entrance  on  a  troublous  time 
in  the  consideration  of  national  griev 
ances,  and  we  find  him  engaged  at  once 
in  preparing  the  resolutions  and  address 
to  the  governor's  message.  The  House, 
in  reply  to  the  recent  declarations  of 
Parliament,  reasserted  the  American 
principles  of  taxation  and  petition,  and 
other  questions  in  jeopardy,  and,  in 
consequence,  was  promptly  dissolved 
by  Lord  Botetourt.  The  members,  the 
next  day,  George  Washington  among 
them,  met  at  the  Raleigh  tavern,  and 
pledged  themselves  to  a  non-importa 
tion  agreement. 

The  next  year,  on  the  conflagration 
of  the  house  at  Shadwell,  where  he 
had  his  home  with  his  mother,  he  took 
up  his  residence  at  the  adjacent  "Monti- 
cello,"  also  on  his  own  paternal  grounds, 
in  a  portion  of  the  edifice  so  famous 
afterwards  as  the  dwelling-place  of  his 
maturer  years.  Unhappily,  many  of 
his  early  papers,  his  books  and  those  of 
his  father,  were  burnt  in  the  destruc 
tion  of  his  old  home.  In  17*72,  on  New 
Year's  Day,  he  took  a  step  farther  in 
domestic  life,  in  marriage  with  Mrs. 
Martha  Skelton,  a  widow  of  twenty- 
three,  of  much  beauty  and  many  win 
ning  accomplishments,  the  daughter  of 


John  Wayles,  a  lawyer  of  skill  and 
many  good  qualities,  at  whose  death, 
the  following  year,  the  pair  came  into 
possession  of  a  considerable  property. 
In  this  circumstance,  and  in  the  manage 
ment  of  his  landed  estate,  we  may 
trace  a  certain  resemblance  in  the  for 
tunes  of  the  occupants  of  Monticello 
and  Mount  Vernon. 

Political  affairs  were  now  again  call 
ing  for  legislative  attention.  The  re 
newed  claim  of  the  British  to  send 
persons  for  state  offences  to  England, 
brought  forward  in  Rhode  Island, 
awakened  a  strong  feeling  of  resistance 
among  the  Virginia  delegates,  a  portion 
of  whom,  including  Jefferson,  met  at 
the  Raleigh  Tavern,  and  drew  up  reso 
lutions  creating  a  Committee  of  Corre 
spondence  to  watch  the  proceedings  of 
Parliament,  and  keep  up  a  communica 
tion  with  the  Colonies.  Jefferson  was 
appointed  to  offer  the  resolutions  in 
the  House,  but  declined  in  favor  of  his 
brother-in-law,  Dabney  Carr.  They 
were  passed,  and  a  committee — all 
notable  men  of  the  Revolution — was 
appointed,  including  Peyton  Randolph, 
Richard  Henry  Lee,  Patrick  Henry,  and 
others,  ending  with  Thomas  Jefferson. 
The  Earl  of  Dunmore  then,  following 
the  example  of  his  predecessor,  dis 
solved  the  House. 

We  may  here  pause,  with  Mr.  Jeffer 
son's  latest  biographer,  to  notice  the 
friendship  of  Jefferson  with  Carr.  It 
belonged  to  their  school-boy  days,  and 
had  gained  strength  during  their  period 
of  legal  study,  when  they  had  kept 
company  together  in  the  shades  of 
Monticello,  and  made  nature  the  com 
panion  of  their  thoughts.  They  had 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


49 


their  favorite  rustic  seat  there  beneath 
an  oak,  and  there,  each  promised  the 
other  he  would  bury  the  survivor. 
The  time  soon  came,  a  month  after  tin1 
scene  at  the  Raleigh  Tavern  wo  have 
just  narrated,  when  Carr,  at  the  age  of 
thirty,  was  fatally  stricken  by  fever. 
The  friends  now  rest  together  in  the 
spot  where  their  youthful  summer  days 
weiv  passed.  Carr  had  been  eight 
years  married  to  Jefferson's  sister,  and 
he  left  her  with  a  family  of  six  children. 
His  brother-in-law  took  them  all  to  his 
home.  The  sons,  Peter  and  Dabney, 
who  rose  high  in  the  Virginia  judiciary, 
have  an  honored  place  in  the  Jefferson 
Correspondence,  calling  forth  many  of 
the  statesmen's  best  letters.  The  whole 
family  was  educated  and  provided  for 
1>\  him;  and  here  again,  in  these 
adopted  children,  we  may  recognize  a 
resemblance  to  Mount  Vernon  with  its 
young  Custises. 

The  new  Legislature  met,  as  usual, 
the  next  year,  and,  roused  by  the  pas 
sage  of  the  Boston  Port  Bill,  a  few 
members,  pays  Jefferson,  including 
Henry  and  himself,  resolved  to  place 
the  Assembly  "  in  the  line  with  Massa 
chusetts."  The  expedient  they  hit  upon 
was  a  fast  day,  which,  by  the  help  of 
some  old  Puritan  precedents,  they 
"  cooked  up  "  and  placed  in  the  hands 
of  a  grave  member  to  lay  before  the 
House.  It  was  passed,  and  the  Gover 
nor,  "as  usual,"  dissolved  the  Assembly. 
The  fast  was  appointed  for  the  first  of 
June,  the  day  on  which  the  obnoxious 
bill  was  to  take  effect,  and  there  was 
one  man  in  Virginia,  at  least,  who  kept 
it.  We  may  read  in  the  Diary  of 
George  Washington,  of  that  date, 
7 


"  Went  to  church,  and  farted  all 
day."1 

The  dissolved  Assembly  again  met 
at  the  Raleigh,  and  decided  upon  a 
Convention,  to  be  elected  by  the  people 
of  the  several  counties,  and  held  at 
Williamsburg,  so  that  two  bodies  had 
to  be  chosen,  one  to  assemble  in  the 
new  House  of  Burgesses,  the  other  out 
of  the  reach  of  government  control. 
The  same  members,  those  of  the  pre 
vious  House,  were  sent  for  both.  Jef 
ferson  again  represented  the  freeholders 
of  Albemarle.  The  instructions  which 
the  county  gave,  supposed  from  his  pen, 
assert  the  radical  doctrine  of  the  inde*- 
pendence  of  the  Colonial  Legislatures, 
as  the  sole  fount  of  authority  in  new 
laws.  The  Williamsburg  Convention 
met  and  appointed  delegates  to  the 
first  General  Congress.  Jefferson  was 
detained  from  the  Assembly  by  illness, 
but  he  forwarded  a  draught  of  instruc- 

o 

tions  for  the  delegates,  which  was  not 
adopted,  but  ordered  to  be  printed  by 
the  members.  It  bore  the  title,  "  A 
Summary  View  of  the  Rights  of  British 
America,"  reached  England,  was  taken 
up  by  the  opposition,  and,  with  some 
interpolations  from  Burke,  passed 
through  several  editions.9  Though  in 


1  Mrs.  Kirkland'a  Memoirs  of  Washington,  p.  220. 

*  The  pamphlet  took  the  ground,  that  the  relation  be 
tween  Great  Britain  and  her  Colonies  was  exactly  the 
same  as  that  of  England  and  Scotland  after  the  ac< 
of  James,  and  until  the  Union,  or  as  Uanover  then  stood, 
linked  only  by  the  crown.     An  illustrate  •  >lrawn 

from  the  Saxon  settlement  of  Britain,  "  that  mother  coun 
try  "  never  having  asserted  any  claim  of  authority  over 
her  emigrants.  The  trading  and  manufacturing  repres 
sions  of  England  in  particular  were  dwelt  upon,  with 
other  pertinent  topics  of  reform.  The  whole  was  ex 
pressed  in  terse  and  pointed  language.  lie  would  remind 
i  George  III.  that  "  Kings  are  the  servants  not  the  propri- 


50 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON". 


advance  of  the  judgment  of  the  people, 
who  are  slow  in  coming  up  to  the  prin 
ciples  of  great  reforms,  this  "  View " 
undoubtedly  assisted  to  form,  that 
judgment.  But  so  slow  was  the  pro 
gress  of  opinion  at  the  outset,  that,  at 
the  moment  when  this  paper  was  writ 
ten,  only  a  few  leaders,  such  as  Samuel 
Adams  and  Patrick  Henry,  were  capa 
ble  of  appreciating  it.  A  few  years 
afterwards,  and  it  would  have  been  ac 
cepted  as  a  truism.  The  country  was  not 
yet  ready  to  receive  its  virtual  Decla 
ration  of  Independence.  The  people 
had  to  be  pricked  on  by  further  out 
rages.  Theoretical  rebellion  they  had 
no  eye  for ;  they  must  feel  to  be  con 
vinced.  Jefferson's  paper  was  in  ad 
vance  of  them,  by  the  boldness  of  its 
historical  positions,  and  the  plainness 
of  its  language  to  His  Majesty — yet  its 
array  of  grievances  must  have  enlight 
ened  many  minds. 

The  Congress  of  17 74  met  but  adopt 
ed  milder  forms  of  petition,  better 
adapted  to  the  moderation  of  their 
sentiments.  Meanwhile  committees  of 
safety  are  organizing  in  Virginia,  and 
Jefferson  heads  the  list  in  his  county. 
He  is  also  in  the  second  Virginia 
Convention  at  Richmond,  listening  to 
Patrick  Henry's  ardent  appeal  to  the 
God  of  Battles — "I  repeat  it,  sir,  we 
must  fight!"  The  Assembly  adopted 
the  view  so  far  as  preparing  means  of 
defence,  and  that  the  students  of  events 
in  Massachusetts  began  to  think  meant 
war.  The  delegates  to  the  first  Con 
gress  were  elected  to  the  second,  and 


etors  of  the  people."     "  The  whole  art  of  government," 
he  maintains,  "  consists  in  the  art  of  being  honest." 


in  case  Peyton  Randolph  should  be 
called  to  preside  over  the  House  of 
Burgesses,  Thomas  Jefferson  was  to  be 
his  successor  at  Philadelphia.  The 
House  met,  Randolph  was  elected,  and 
Jefferson  departed  to  fill  his  place,  bear 
ing  with  him  to  Congress  the  spirited 
Resolutions  of  the  Assembly,  which  he 
had  written  and  driven  through,  in 
reply  to  the  conciliatory  propositions 
of  Lord  North.  It  was  a  characteristic 
introduction,  immediately  followed  up 
by  his  appointment  on  the  committee 
charged  to  prepare  a  declaration  of  the 
causes  of  taking  up  arms,  Congress 
having  just  chosen  Washington  Com- 
mander-in-Chief  of  a  national  army. 
He  was  associated  in  this  task  with 
John  Dickinson,  to  whose  timidity  and 
caution,  respected  as  they  were  by  his 
fellow  members,  he  deferred  in  the 
report,  in  which,  however,  a  few  ring 
ing  sentences  of  Jefferson  are  readily 
distinguishable,  among  them  the  famous 
watchwords  of  political  struggle — "  Our 
cause  is  just ;  our  union  is  perfect." 
"  With  hearts,"  the  document  proceeds, 
"fortified  with  these  animating  affec 
tions,  we  most  solemnly,  before  God 
and  the  world,  declare,  that,  exerting 
the  utmost  energy  of  those  powers 
which  our  beneficent  Creator  hath  gra 
ciously  bestowed  upon  us,  the  arms 
which  we  have  been  compelled  by  our 
enemies  to  assume,  we  will,  in  defiance 
of  every  hazard,  with  unabated  firm 
ness  and  perseverance,  employ  for  the 
preservation  of  our  liberties,  being 
with  one  mind  resolved  to  die  freemen 
rather  than  to  live  slaves." 

This  was  the  era  of  masterly  state 
papers ;  and  talent  in  composition  was 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


in  demand.  The  reputation  <>t'  JelVer- 
Bon  in  this  line  bad  preceded  him,  in 
the  al.ility  of  bis  "Summary  View," 
presented  to  the  Virginia  Convention, 
;ind  was  confirmed  by  bis  presence. 
Nearly  a  year  passed — a  \  car  commenc 
ing  with  Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill, 
and  including  the  military  scenes  of 
Washington's  command  around  Huston. 

O  9 

before  Congress  was  fully  ready  to  pro 
nounce  its  final  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence.  When  the  time  came,  Jef 
ferson  was  again  a  member  of  that 
body.  The  famous  Resolutions  of  In 
dependence,  in  accordance  with  pre 
vious  instructions  from  Virginia,  were 
moved  by  Richard  Henry  Lee,  on  the 
seventh  of  June.  They  were  debated 
in  committee  of  the  whole,  and  pending 
the  deliberations,  not  to  lose  time,  a 
special  committee  was  appointed  by 
ballot  on  the  eleventh,  to  prepare  a 
Declaration  of  Independence.  Jeffer 
son  had  the  highest  vote,  and  stood  at 
the  bead  of  the  committee,  witb  John 
Adams,  Benjamin  Franklin,  Roger  Sher 
man,  and  Robert  R.  Livingston.  The 
preparation  of  the  instrument  was  en 
trusted  to  Jefferson.  "  The  committee 
desired  me  to  do  it,  it  was  accordingly 
done,"  says  bis  Autobiography.  The 
draft  tbus  prepared,  with  a  few  verbal 
CQirections  from  Franklin  and  Adams, 
was  submitted  to  the  House  on  the 
twenty-eighth.  On  the  second  of  July, 
it  was  taken  up  in  debate,  and  ear 
nestly  battled  for  three  days,  when  on 
tbe  evening  of  tbe  last — the  ever- 
memorable  fourtb  of  July — it  was 
finally  reported,  agreed  to,  and  signed 
by  every  member  except  Mr.  Dickinson. 
Some  alterations  were  made  in  the 


61 

original  draft — a  phrase,  here  and  there, 
which  M-emed  superfluous  was  lupprd 
oil';  the  Kiii'j;  of  Great  Britain  \va> 
spared  some  additional  severities,  and  a 
stirring  passage  arraigning  his  Majesty 
for  his  complicity  in  the  slave  trade 
then  carried  on,  a  "piratical  warfare, 
the  opprobrium  of  infidel  powers,"  was 
entirely  exscinded — the  denunciation 
being  thought  to  strike  at  home  as  well 
as  abroad.  The  people  of  England 
were  also  relieved  of  tbe  censure  cast 
upon  them  for  electing  tyrannical  Par 
liaments.  With  these  omissions,  the 
paper  stands  substantially  as  first  re 
ported  by  Jefferson.  It  is  intimately 
related  to  his  previous  resolutions  and 
reports  in  Virginia  and  Congress,  and 
whatever  merit  may  be  attached  to  it, 
alike  in  its  spirit  and  language,  belongs 
to  him. 

Mr.  Jefferson  was  elected  to  the  next 
session  of  Congress  ;  but,  pleading  the 
state  of  his  family  affairs,  and  desirous 
of  taking  part  in  the  formative  mea 
sures  of  government  now  arising  in 
Virginia,  be  was  permitted  to  resign. 
He  declined,  also,  immediately  after,  an 
appointment  by  Congress  as  fellow- 
minister  to  France  with  Dr.  Franklin. 
In  October,  he  took  his  seat  in  the  Vir 
ginia  House  of  Delegates,  and  com 
menced  those  efforts  of  reform  with 
which  his  name  will  always  be  identi 
fied  in  his  native  State,  and  which  did 
not  end  till  its  social  condition  was 
thoroughly  revolutionized.  His  first 
great  blow  was  the  introduction  of  a 
bill  abolishing  entails,  which,  with  one 
subsequently  brought  in,  cutting  off 
the  right  of  primogeniture,  levelled  the 
great  landed  aristocracy  which  had 


52 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


hitherto  governed  in  the  country.  He 
was  also,  about  the  time  of  the  passage 
of  this  act,  created  one  of  the  committee 
for  the  general  revision  of  the  laws,  his 
active  associates  being  Edmund  Pen- 
dleton  and  George  Wythe.  This  vast 
work  was  not  completed  by  the  com 
mittee  till  June,  1779,  an  interval  of 
more  than  two  years.  Among  the  one 
hundred  and  sixteen  new  bills  reported, 
perhaps  the  most  important  was  one, 
the  work  of  Jefferson,  that  for  Esta 
blishing  Religious  Freedom,  which 
abolished  tythes,  and  left  all  men  free 
"  to  profess,  and  by  argument  to  main 
tain,  their  opinions  in  matters  of  reli 
gion,  and  that  the  same  shall  in  no  wise 
diminish,  enlarge,  or  affect  their  civil 
capacities."  A  concurrent  act  provided 
for  the  preservation  of  the  glebe  lands 
to  church  members.  Jefferson  was  not, 
therefore,  in  this  instance  the  originator 
of  the  after  spoliation  of  the  ecclesiasti 
cal  property.  Of  this  matter  Mr.  Ran 
dall  says  :  "  Whether  Mr.  Jefferson 
changed  his  mind,  and  kept  up  with 
the  demands  of  popular  feeling  in  that 
particular,  we  have  no  means  of  know 
ing.  We  remember  no  utterance  of  his 
on  that  subject,  after  reporting  the  bills 
we  have  described."  1  Another  impor 
tant  subject  fell  to  his  charge  in  the 
statutes  affecting  education.  He  pro 
posed  a  system  of  free  common  school 
education,  planned  in  the  minutest  de 
tails  ;  a  method  of  reorganization  for 
William  and  Mary  College,  and  pro 
vision  for  a  free  State  Library.  There 
was  also  a  bill  limiting  the  death  pen 
alty  to  murder  and  treason.  In  his 

1  Life  of  Jefferson,  I.  222. 


account  of  the  reception  of  this  "  Re 
vision,"  Mr.  Jefferson  records  :  "  Some 
bills  were  taken  out,  occasionally,  from 
time  to  time,  and  passed ;  but  the  main 
body  of  the  work  was  not  entered  on 
by  the  Legislature  until  after  the  gene 
ral  peace,  in  1-785,  when,  by  the  un 
wearied  exertions  of  Mr.  Madison,  in 
opposition  to  the  endless  quibbles, 
chicaneries,  perversions,  vexations,  and 
delays  of  lawyers  and  demi-lawyers, 
most  of  the  bills  were  passed  by  the 
Legislature,  with  little  alteration." 

In  1779,  Mr.  Jefferson  succeeded 
Patrick  Henry  as  Governor  of  Virginia, 
falling  upon  a  period  of  administration 
requiring  the  military  defenpe  of  the 
State,  less  suited  to  his  talents  than  the 
reforming  legislation  in  which  he  had 
been  recently  engaged.  Indeed,  he 
modestly  confesses  this  in  the  few  words 
he  devotes  to  the  subject  in  his  Auto 
biography,  where  he  says,  referring  to 
history  for  this  portion  of  his  career : 
"  From  a  belief  that,  under  the  pressure 
of  the  invasion  under  which  we  were 
then  laboring,  the  public  would  have 
more  confidence  in  a  military  chief,  and 
that  the  military  commander,  being 
invested  with  the  civil  power  also,  both 
might  be  wielded  with  more  energy, 
promptitude  and  effect  for  the  defence 
of  the  State,  I  resigned  the  administra- 

/  O 

tion  at  the  end  of  my  second  year,  and 
General  Nelson  was  appointed  to  suc 
ceed  me."  Hig  disposition  to  the  arts 
of  peace,  in  mitigation  of  the  calamities 
of  war,  had  been  previously  shown  in 
his  treatment  of  the  Saratoga  prisoner? 
of  war,  who  were  quartered  in  his 
neighborhood,  near  Charlottesville. 

O  ' 

He  added  to  the  comforts  of  the  men, 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


63 


an<l  entertained  the  officers  at  his  table, 

and  when  it  was  proposed  to  remove 
them  to  less  advantageous  quarters,  lie 
remonstrated  with  Governor  Henry  in 
their  favor.  The  early  part  of  Jcller- 
BOH'S  administration  was  occupied  with 
various  duties  connected  with  the  war, 
and  it  was  only  at  the  end,  in  the  inva 
sions  by  Arnold  and  Phillips,  in  1780, 
that  lie  frit  its  pressure.  When  Rich 
mond  was  invaded  and  plundered,  he 
was  obliged  to  reconnoitre  the  attack, 
in  his  movements  about  the  vicinity, 
\vithout  ability  of  resistance.  The 
finances  and  resources  of  defence  of  the 
State  were  in  the  most  lamentable  con 
dition,  and  it  remains  a  question  for  the 
historian  to  conjecture  what  degree  of 
military  energy,  in  a  Governor,  would 
have  been  effectual  to  create  an  army 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  extort 
means  for  its  support.  The  depreda 
tions  of  Arnold  continued  till  the  arri 
val  of  Cornwallis,  and  before  his  exit 
iVoin  the  scene  of  these  operations  at 
Yorktown,  an  incident  occurred  which 
has  been  sometimes  told  to  Jefferson's 
disadvantage,  though  without  any  ap 
parent  reason.  The  famous  Colonel 
Turleton,  celebrated  for  the  rapidity  of 
his  movements,  was  dispatched  to 
secure  the  members  of  the  Legislature, 
then  assembled  at  Charlottesville. 
Warning  was  given,  and  the  honorable 
gentlemen  escaped,  wlien  it  was  pro 
posed  to  capture  the  Governor  at  his 
hboring  residence  at  Monticello. 
He  however,  also  had  intelligence,  per 
ceiving  the  approach  of  the  enemy 
from  his  mountain  height,  and  sending 
his  wife  and  children  in  advance  to  a 
place  of  safety,  rode  off  himself  as  the 


troopers  approached  to  Carter's  Moun 
tain.  At  this  time  his  term  of  service 
as  Governor  had  expired  a  few  d.;\  <. 
Happily,  the  officer  who  thus  visited 
his  house  was  a  gentleman,  and  his 
papers,  books,  and  other  property,  were 
spared.  His  estate  at  Elk  Hill,  on 
James  River,  did  not  fare  so  well.  Its 
crops  were  destroyed,  its  stock  taken, 
and  the  slaves  driven  off  to  perish, 
almost  to  a  man,  of  fever  and  suffering 
in  the  British  camp. 

Losses  like  these  he  could  bear  with 
equanimity ;  not  so  the  inquiry  which 
received  some  countenance  from  the 
legislature  into  his  conduct  during  the 
invasion.  He  was  grieved  that  such 
an  implied  censure  should  be  even 
thought  of,  and  prepared  himself  to 
meet  it  in  person ;  but  when  he  pre 
sented  himself  at  the  next  session,  con 
senting  to  an  election  for  the  express 
purpose,  there  was  no  one  to  oppose 
him,  and  resolutions  of  respect  and  con 
fidence  took  the  place  of  the  threatened 
attack.  He  had  another  cause  of 
despondence  at  this  time,  which  no  act 
of  the  legislature  could  cure.  His  wife, 
to  whom  he  was  always  tenderly  at 
tached,  was  daily  growing  more  feeble 
in  health,  and  gradually  approaching 
her  grave.  She  died  in  September, 
1782 — "torn  from  him  by  death,"  is 
the  expressive  language  he  placed  on 
her  simple  monument. 

The  illness  of  his  wife  had  prevented 
his  acceptance  of  an  appointment  in 
Europe,  to  negotiate  terms  of  peace 
immediately  after  the  termination  of 
his  duties  as  governor.  A  similar  office 
was  now  ti-nd'-red  him — the  third  prof 
fer  of  the  kind  by  Congress — and,  look 


54 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


ing  upon  it  as  a  relief  to  his  distracted 
mind  as  well  as  a  duty  to  the  State,  he 
accepted  it.  Before,  however,  the  pre 
parations  for  his  departure  were  com 
plete,  arising  from  the  difficulties  then 
existing  of  crossing  the  ocean,  intelli 
gence  was  received  of  the  progress  of 
the  peace  negotiations,  and  the  voyage 
was  abandoned. 

He  was  then  returned  to .  Congress, 
taking  his  seat  in  November,  1783,  at 
Trenton,  the  day  of  the  adjournment  to 
Annapolis,  where  one  of  his  first  duties, 
the  following  month,  was  as  chairman 

O  ' 

of  the  Committee  which  provided  the 
arrangements  for  the  reception  of  Wash 
ington  on  his  resignation  of  his  com 
mand.  The  ceremony  took  place  in 
public,  "  the  representatives  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Union"  remaining 
seated  and  covered  while  the  company 
in  the  gallery  were  standing  and  un 
covered.  After  Washington's  address 
and  delivery  of  his  commission,  the 
President  replied  in  an  answer  attri 
buted  to  Jefferson.1  Eulogy  of  Wash 
ington  always  fell  happily  from  his 
pen.  "  Having  defended  the  standard 
of  liberty  in  this  new  world,"  was  one 
of  its  sentences ;  "  having  taught  a 
lesson  useful  to  those  who  inflict  and 
those  who  feel  oppression,  you  retire 
from  the  great  theatre  of  action  with 
the  blessings  of  your  fellow-citizens: 
but  the  glory  of  your  virtues  will  not 
terminate  with  your  military  com 
mand;  it  will  continue  to  animate  re 
motest  ages."  Jefferson  was  accustomed 
to  speak  of  Washington  with  eloquence 
and  admiration,  suffering  no  political 


1  Randall's  Life  of  Jefferson,  I.  S92. 


disagreements  to  diminish  his  historic 
greatness.  Probably  the  best  character 
ever  drawn  of  the  Father  of  his  Country, 
was  written  by  him,  in  a  letter  from 
Monticello,  addressed  to  Dr.  Walter 
Jones,  in  1814. 

The  presence  of  Jefferson  in  any 
legislative  body  was  always  soon  felt, 
and  we  accordingly  find  him  in  the 
Congress  of  1784,  making  his  mark  in 
the  debates  on  the  ratification  of  the 
treaty  of  peace,  his  suggestions  on  the 
establishment  of  a  money  unit  and  a 
national  coinage,  which  were  subse 
quently  adopted — he  gave  us  the  deci 
mal  system  and  the  denomination  of 
the  cent ;  the  cession  of  the  North 
western  Territory  by  Virginia,  with  his 
report  for  its  government,  proposing 
names  for  its  new  States,  and  the  ex 
clusion  of  slavery  after  the  year  1800: 
and  taking  an  active  part  in  the  ar 
rangements  for  commercial  treaties  with 
foreign  nations.  In  the  last,  he  was 

O  .  ' 

destined  to  be  an  actor  as  well  as 
designer — Congress,  on  the  seventh  of 

O  o  I 

May,  appointing  him  to  act  in  Europe 
with  Adams  and  Franklin,  in  accom 
plishing  these  negotiations.  This  time 
he  was  enabled  to  enter  upon  the  scene 
abroad,  which  had  always  invited  his 
imagination  by  its  prospects  of  new 
observations  in  art  and  science,  society 
and  government,  and  intimacy  with 
learned  and  distinguished  men.  A 
visit  to  Europe  to  an  ordinary  Ameri 
can  in  those  days,  was  like  passing  from 
a  school  to  a  university ;  but  Jefferson, 
though  he  found  the  means  of  know 
ledge  unfailing  wherever  he  went,  being 
no  ordinary  man  but  a  very  extraordi 
nary  one,  carried  with  him  to  Europe 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


65 


more  than  lie  could  receive  there.  In 
tin-  science  of  government  lie  was  the 
instructor  of  tlie  most  learned  ;  and,  in 
tliat  matter,  the  relations  of  the  old 
world  and  the  new  were  reversed. 
America, even  then, with  much  to  learn 
before  her  system  was  perfected,  was  the 
educator  of  Europe. 

Jefferson  took  with  him  his  oldest 
daughter,  Martha — his  family  consist 
ing,  since  the,  death  of  his  wife,  of 
three  youn-1  daughters  and  the  adopted 
children  of  his  friend,  Carr — with 
whom  he  reached  Paris,  by  the  way  of 
England,  in  August.  There  he  found 
Dr.  Franklin,  with  whom  he  entered 
on  the  duties  of  his  mission,  and 
whose  friendship  he  experienced  in  an 
introduction  to  the  brilliant  philosophi 
cal  society  of  the  capital.  His  position, 
also,  at  the  outset,  was  much  strenoih- 

11  O 

ened  with  these  savans  by  a  small 
edition  which  he  printed  and  privately 
circulated  of  his  "  Notes  on  Virginia." 
This  work  had  for  some  time  existed 
in  manuscript,  having  been  written 
in  Virginia,  in  1781,  during  a  period 
of  confinement,  when  he  was  disabled 
from  active  exertion  in  consequence  of 
a  fall  from  his  horse,  in  reply  to  certain 
queries  which  had  been  addressed  to 
him  by  the  French  minister,  M.  Marbois, 
who  had  been  instructed  by  his  govern 
ment  to  procure  various  statistical  in 
formation  in  regard  to  the  country.  As 
it  had  al  \vays  been  a  custom  of  Jeffer 
son  to  note  everything  that  came  to  his 
knowledge  relating  to  topics  of  national 
welfare,  it  was  an  easy  task  to  supply 
the  required  answers  from  his  note 
books.  In  this  way,  the  "  Notes  "  were 
written  and  commun;  -a  !  t>  the 


minister;  and,  as  these  queries  we?v 
of  constant  recurrence,  relating,  as  they 
did,  to  a  new  state  of  things  whieh 
provoked  inquiry,  the  author  kept  a 
copy  of  the  replies  for  his  own  use  and 
for  that  of  his  friends.  He  would  have 
printed  the  little  work  in  America,  but 
was  deterred  by  the  expense.  Finding 
this  could  be  done  at  a  fourth  of  the 
cost  in  Paris,  he  now  carried  the  inten 
tion  out.  The  volume  was  carefully 
distributed — the  writer  thinking  its 
opinions  on  the  subject  of  slavery  and 
of  the  American  Constitution  might 
irritate  the  minds  of  his  countrymen — 
but  a  year  or  two  later,  a  copy,  on  the 
death  of  its  owner,  got  into  the  hands 
of  a  bookseller,  who  caused  it  to  be 
hastily  translated  by  the  Abbe*  Morel- 
let,  into  French,  and  in  this  state  sent 
•it  to  Jefferson  on  the  eve  of  publica 
tion.  He  could  correct  only  its  worst 
blunders,  and  the  work  being  now 
before  the  world,  he  thought  it  but  an 
act  of  justice  to  himself  to  yield  to  the 
request  of  a  London  publisher,  to  issue 
the  original.  This  is  the  history  of  the 
famous  "  Notes  on  Virginia."  The  book 
itself,  as  a  valuable  original  contribu 
tion  to  the  knowledge  of  an  interesting 
portion  of  the  country,  at  a  transition 
period,  has  been  always  treasured.  Its 
observations  on  natural  history,  and  de 
scriptions  of  scenery,  are  of  value ;  it 
has  much  which  would  now  be  called 
ethnological,  particularly  in  reference 
to  the  Indian  and  the  black  man; 
while,  in  style  and  treatment,  it  may 
be  studied  as  a  suggestive  index  of  the 
mind  and  tastes  of  the  author. 

In  the  summer  of  1785,  Dr.  Frank 
lin  took  his  departure  homeward,  retir- 


56 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


ing  from  the  embassy  lie  had  so  long 
and  honorably  filled,  and  Jefferson 
remained  as  his  successor.  lie  was 
four  years  in  this  position,  covering  the 
important  opening  era  of  the  Revolu 
tion,  including  the  assembly  of  the 
States  General,  of  all  the  movements 
connected  with  which  he  was  a  diligent 
observer  and  friendly  sympathizer  with 
the  reformers.  His  official  duties 
embraced  various  regulations  of  trade 
and  commerce,  the  admission  of  Ameri 
can  products  into  France  on  favorable 
terms ;  a  fruitless  attempt  with  Adams 
at  negotiations  with  England,  which 
left  an  unfavorable  impression  of  the 
mother  country  on  his  mind,  and  the 
consideration^  the  Barbary  question, 
for  which  he  proposed,  as  a  remedy  to 
the  constant  aggressions,  active  naval 

OO  ' 

coercion.  His  private  correspondence,, 
during  this  residence  abroad,  is  of  the 
most  interesting  character.  It  is  not 
merely  well  written,  with  the  accuracy 
of  a  mind  accustomed  to  reflection,  but 
its  topics  have,  for  the  most  part,  an 
historic  value.  It  is  in  turn  political, 
scientific,  philosophical,  or  moral,  as  it 
is  addressed  to  Washington,  Jay,  Madi 
son,  with  whom  he  keeps  up  his  ideas 
on  American  state  developments ;  John 
Adams ;  the  astronomer  Eittenhouse ; 
the  ingenious  Francis  Hopkinson;  his 
nephew,  Peter  Carr;  or  his  lady  friends, 
Mrs,  Cosway,  and  Mrs.  Binghani.  To 
Carr,  he  lays  down  a  code  of  precepts, 
in  which  we  may  read  the  reflection  of 
his  own  life.  "  Give  up  money,  give 
up  fame,"  he  writes,  "give  up  science, 
give  up  the  earth  itself  and  all  it  con 
tains,  rather  than  do  an  immoral  act. 
.  .  .  An  honest  heart  being  the  first 


blessing,  a  knowing  head  is  the  second. 
.  .  .  A  strong  body  makes  the  mind 
strong." 

A  tour  which  he  performed  in  the 
provinces  of  France,  and  which  was 
extended  into  northern  Italy,  was 
made  as  subservient  to  his  friends  as 
to  his  own  interest.  It  was  his  humor 
on  this  journey  to  study  the  ways  and 
habits  of  the  common  people,  and  he 
took  as  great  delight  in  rambling 
through  the  fields  with  the  peasantry 
and  inspecting  their  cottages,  as  in 
visiting  palaces  and  churches.  He 
advised  Lafayette  to  travel  in  his  path, 
"and  to  do  it  effectually,"  he  wrote, 
"  you  must  be  absolutely  incognito;  you 
must  ferret  the  people  out  of  their 
hovels,  as  I  have  done,  look  into  their 
kettles,  eat  their  bread,  loll  on  their 
beds,  under  pretence  of  resting  your 
self,  but  in  fact  to  find  if  they  are  soft. 
You  will  feel  a  sublime  pleasure  in  the 
course  of  this  investigation,  and  a  sub- 
Inner  one  hereafter,  when  you  shall  be 
able  to  apply  your  knowledge  to  the 
softening  of  their  beds,  or  the  throwing 
a  morsel  of  meat  into  their  kettle  of 
vegetables." 

Tho  ivtiirn  of  Jefferson  to  the  United 
States  in  the  autumn  of  IT 8 9,  grew  out 
of  his  desire  to  restore  his  daughters — a 
second  one  had  joined  him  in  Europe, 
the  third  died  during  his  absence — to 
education  in  America,  and  to  look  after 
his  private  affairs,  A  leave  of  absence 
was  accordingly  granted  him,  with  the 
expectation  of  a  return  to  the  French 
capital.  Before  reaching  home,  he  found 
a  letter  from  President  Washington 
awaiting  him,  tendering  him  the  office 
of  Secretary  of  State  in  the  new  govern- 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


57 


ment.  The  proposition  was  received 
\vith  manifest  reluctance,  but  with  a 
candid  reference  to  the  will  of  the  Presi 
dent.  The  latter  smoothed  the  way, 
by  representing  the  duties  of  the  office 
as  less  laborious  than  had  been  con 
ceived,  and  it  was  accepted.  •  At  the 
end  of  March,  1790,  he  joined  the 
other  members  of  the  administration  at 
New  York.  Then  began  that  separa 
tion  in  politics,  which,  gradually  rising 
to  the  dignity  of  party  organization, 
became  known  as  Federalism  and  Re- 
pajjlkaiikni.  At  the  present  day,  it  is 
difficult  to  appreciate  the  state  of  Jef 
ferson's  mind  towards  Hamilton  and 
other  members  of  the  administration ; 
his  distrust  of  their  movements,  and 
apparently  fixed  belief  that  some  mon 
archical  designs  were  entertained  by 
them.  If  there  were  any  offenders  in 
this  way,  they  were  Hamilton  and  Jay; 
but  it  is  difficult  to  credit  that  either 
of  them  entertained  any  serious  inten 
tions  of  the  kind,  however  naturally 
they  might  distrust  theories  of  self- 
government.  In  fact,  there  were  "  fears 
of  the  brave,"  if  not  "follies  of  the 
wise,"  on  both  sides.  Each  party  had 
much  to  learn,  which  experience  in  the 
practical  working  of  the  government 
only  could  teach.  It  was  easy  then  to 
exaggerate  trifles,  as  it  is  unprofitable 
now,  in  the  face  of  broad  results,  to 
revive  them.  There  was  a  practical 
question  also  before  Congress,  which 
seems  to  have  affected  the  equani 
mity  of  Jefferson,  that  namely  of  the 
assumption  of  the  State  debts.  Hamil 
ton  was  the  advocate  of  this  measure, 
which  met  with  serious  opposition. 
Jefferson  was  inclined  to  oppose  it,  as 
8 


an  addition  to  the  financial  power  of 
the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury;  which 
rose  in  his  eyes  as  an  evil  of  still  greater 
magnitude  when  Hamilton's  proposi 
tion  came  up  of  a  national  bank.  This 
institution,  in  his  distrust  of  paper 
money,  he  considered  a  fountain  of  de 
moralization.  To  these  causes  of  sepa 
ration  in  opinion  was  in  no  long  time 
added  the  pregnant  controversy  of 
the  good  or  evil,  the  wisdom  or  folly 
of  the  French  Revolution,  drawing  with 
it  a  train  of  conduct  at  home,  when  the 
neutrality  question  became  the  subject 
of  practical  discussion.  Jefferson  is 
thought  to  have  lent  some  support  to 
the  annoyances  of  the  time  under  which 
Washington  suffered,  in  his  patronage 
of  the  poet  Freneau,  who  irritated  the 
President  by  sending  him  his  news 
paper  filled  with  attacks  on  the  sup 
posed  monarchical  tendencies  of  the 
day.  When  the  insolence,  however,  of 
Genet  and  his  advocates  reached  its 
height,  the  case  was  so  clear  that  Jeffer 
son  employed  himself  in  his  office  in 
the  State  Department  in  the  most  vigor 
ous  protests  and  denunciation.  What 
ever  opinions  he  might  entertain  of 
men  or  measures,  on  a  question  of 
practical  conduct,  he  regarded  only  the 
honor  and  welfare  of  his  country.  He 
retired  at  the  end  of  1793,  with  the 
friendship  and  respect  of  Washington 
unbroken.  The  public  questions  which 
arose  during  his  secretaryship,  which 
we  have  alluded  to,  though  the  noisiest 
on  the  page  of  history,  are  perhaps  not 
the  most  significant  of  Jefferson's  career. 
His  services,  in  many  laborious  matters 
of  investigation  and  negotiation,  were 
constant ;  with  England,  in  regard  to 


58 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


conditions  of  the  treaty  of  peace;  with 
Spain,  in  reference  to  her  claims  at  the 
South,  and  the  navigation  of  the  Mis 
sissippi — a  question  which  he  was  so 
happily  to  bring  to  a  termination  in 
his  Presidential  administration ;  at 
home,  in  his  efforts  for  trade  and  com- 
merce,  exhibited  in  his  various  indus 
trial  reports. 

The  simplicity  of  his  retirement  at 
Monticello  has  been  questioned  by 
those  who  have  been  accustomed  to 
look  upon  the  man  too  exclusively  in 
the  light  of  a  politician ;  but  the  evi 
dence  brought  forward  by  his  latest 
biographer,  Mr.  Randall,  shows  that 
the  passion,  while  it  lasted,  was  genu 
ine.  Jefferson,  with  all  his  coolness 
and  external  command,  had  a  peculiar 
sensitiveness.  In  fact,  it  is  only  a  super 
ficial  view  of  his  character  which  could 
overlook  this  element  lying  beneath. 
A  speculative  moralist  must  feel  as  well 
as  think,  and  the  world  can  no  more 
get  such  reflections  on  life  and  conduct 
—whatever  we  may  think  of  their  ab 
solute  value — as  are  thickly  sown  in 
his  writings,  without  inner  emotion, 
than  fruit  can  be  gathered  without  the 
delicate  organization  of  the  plant  which 
bears  it.  Such  grapes  are  not  plucked 
from  thorns.  In  Jefferson's  heart  there 
was  a  fund  of  sensibility,  freely  ex 
hibited  in  his  private  intercourse  with 
his  family.  He  was  unwearied  in  the 
cares  and  solicitudes  of  his  daughters, 
his  adopted  children,  and  their  alli 
ances.  In  reading  the  letters  which 
passed  between  them,  the  politician  is 
forgotten:  we  see  only  the  man  and 
the  father.  Besides  these  pleasing  anx 
ieties,  he  had  the  responsibilities  and 


resources  of  several  considerable  plan 
tations;  his  five  thousand  acres  about 
Monticello  alone,  as  he  managed  them 
with  their  novel  improvements  and 
home  manufacturing  operations,  afford 
ing  occupation  enough  for  a  single 
mind.  He  had,  too,  his  books  and 
favorite  studies  in  science  and  literature. 
There  were,  probably,  few  public  men 
in  the  country  who  like  him  read  the 
Greek  dramatists  in  the  original  with 
pleasure.  What  wonder,  then,  that  he 
honestly  sought  retirement  from  the 
labors  and  struggles  of  political  life, 
becoming  every  day  more  embittered 
by  the  rising  spirit  of  party?  That 
the  retirement  was  really  such,  we  have 
the  best  proof  in  an  incidental  remark 
in  one  of  his  letters  written  in  1802 — 
the  recluse  was  at  the  time  in  the  Presi 
dency — to  his  daughter  Maria,  then 
married  to  Mr.  Eppes.  Fancying  he 
saw  in  her  a  reluctance  to  society,  he 
rebukes  the  feeling,  adding,  "I  can 
speak  from  experience  on  this  subject. 
From  1793  to  1*797, 1  remained  closely 
at  home,  saw  none  but  those  who  came 
there,  and  at  length  became  very  sen 
sible  of  the  ill  effect  it  had  upon  my 
own  mind,  and  of  its  direct  and  irre 
sistible  tendency  to  render  me  unfit  for 
society  and  uneasy  when  necessarily 
eno-ao-ed  in  it.  I  felt  enough  of  the 

o   o  ° 

effect  of  withdrawing  from  the  world 
then,  to  see  that  it  led  to  an  anti-social 
and  misanthropic  state  of  mind,  which 
severely  punishes  him  who  gives  into 
it ;  and  it  will  be  a  lesson  I  shall  never 
forget  as  to  myself."  But  the  law  of  Jef 
ferson's  mind  was  activity,  and  it  was  no 
long  time  before  he  mingled  again  in 
the  political  arena.  His  first  decided 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON. 


69 


symptom  of  returning  animation  is 
found  by  his  biographer  in  his  subscrip 
tion,  at  the  close  of  1795,  to  "Bache's 
Aurora."  lie  was  no  longer  content 
with  "liis  solitary  Richmond  news 
paper."  After  this,  there  is  no  more 
thorough  "working  politician"  in  the 
country  than  Thomas  Jefferson.1 

It  is  not  necessaiy  here  to  trace  his 
influence  on  every  passing  event.  We 
may  proceed  rapidly  to  his  reappear 
ance  in  public  life  as  Vice-President  in 
1797,  on  the  election  of  John  Adams, 
soon  followed  by  the  storm  of  party, 
attendant  upon  the  obnoxious  measures 
of  the  President  in  the  Alien  and 
Sedition  Laws,  the  rapid  disintegration 
of  the  Federal  party  and  the  rise  of  the 
Republicans.  Out  of  the  stormy  con 
flict,  Jefferson,  at  the  next  election,  was 
elevated  to  the  Presidency.  The  vote 
stood  seventy-three  alike  for  himself 
and  Bun*,  and  sixty-five  and  sixty-four 
respectively  for  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr. 
Pinckney.  As  the  Presidency  was  then 
given  to  the  one  who  had  the  highest 
vote  and  the  Vice-Presidency  to  the  one 
next  below  him,  neither  beincr  named 

'  O 

for  the  offices,  this  equality  threw  the 
election  into  the  House  of  Representa 
tives.  A  close  contest  then  ensued 
between  Jefferson  and  Burr  for  the 
Presidency,  which  was  protracted  for 
six  days  and  thirty-six  ballotings,  when 


1  The  close  of  his  retirement  was  marked  by  an  honor 
which  he  valued,  his  election  as  President  of  the  American 
Philosophical  Society.  In  his  letter  of  acceptance,  always 
mindful  of  his  practical  democracy,  he  wrote,  "  I  feel  no 
qualification  for  this  distinguished  post,  but  a  sincere  zeal 
for  all  the  objects  of  our  institution,  and  an  ardent  desire 
to  we  knowledge  so  disseminated  through  the  mass  of 
mankind,  that  it  may  at  length  reach  the  extremes  of 
society,  beggars  and  kings." 


the  former  was  chosen  by  ten  out  of  the 
sixteen  votes  of  the  States. 

His  Inaugural  Address  was  an  ap 
peal  for  harmony.  After  a  brief  sketch 
in  vivid  language,  of  which  no  one  had 
a  better  mastery,  of  the  country,  whose 
laws  he  was  appointed  to  administer — 
"  a  rising  nation,  spread  over  a  wide 
and  fruitful  land,  traversing  all  the  seas 
with  the  rich  productions  of  their 
industry,  engaged  in  commerce  with 
nations  who  feel  power  and  forget 
right,  advancing  rapidly  to  destinies 
beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  eye" — he 
proceeded  to  assuage  the  agitations  of 
party.  "  Every  difference  of  opinion," 
he  said,  "is  not  a  difference  of  prin 
ciple.  We  have  called  by  different 
names  brethren  of  the  same  principle. 
We  are  all  Republicans — we  are  all 
Federalists.  If  there  be  any  among  us 
who  would  wish  to  dissolve  this  Union, 
or  to  change  its  republican  form,  let 
them  stand  undisturbed  as  monuments 
of  the  safety  with  which  error  of 
opinion  may  be  tolerated  where  reason 
is  left  free  to  combat  it." 

One  of  the  early  measures  of  Jeffer 
son's  administration,  and  the  most  im 
portant  of  his  eight  years  of  office,  was 
the  acquisition  of  Louisiana  by  pur 
chase  from  France.  It  was  a  work 
upon  which  he  had  peculiarly  set  his 
heart.  From  the  first  moment  of  hear 
ing  that  the  territory  was  passing  from 
Spain  to  France,  he  dropped  all  politi 
cal  sympathy  for  the  latter,  and  saw  in 
her  possession  of  the  region  only  a 
pregnant  source  of  war  and  hostility. 
Not  content  with  the  usual  channel  of 
diplomacy  through  the  State  depart 
ment,  he  wrote  himself  at  once  to  Mr. 


60 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


Livingston,  the  minister  in  France, 
urging  considerations  of  national  policy 
not  so  much  that  the  United  States 
should  hold  the  country,  as  that  the 
European  powers  should  relinquish  it. 
From  his  own  previous  discussions  with 
Spain,  he  understood  the  topic  well, 
and  his  zeal  was  now  equal  to  the  occa 
sion.  An  active  European  nation  of 
the  first  class  in  possession  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  was  utterly 
inadmissible  to  his  sagacious  mind ;  he 
saw  and  felt  the  fact  in  all  its  conse 
quences.  The  rapidity  of  his  conclu 
sions,  his  patriotic  insight  were  happily 
seconded  by  the  necessities  of  Napoleon 
at  the  time,  and  Louisiana  became  an 
integral  part  of  the  Kepublic,  with  the 
least  expenditure  of  money  and  political 
negotiation.  The  turn  of  European 
events  had  much  to  do  with  it — but 
had  the  difficulty  been  prolonged,  the 
prescience  and  energy  of  Jefferson 
would,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe, 
have  been  prepared  to  cope  with  the 
issue.  The  expedition  of  Lewis  and 
Clarke,  in  exploration  of  the  western 
territory,  parallel  with  this  new  acqui 
sition,  was  planned  by  Jefferson,  and 
must  be  placed  to  the  credit,  alike  of 
his  love  of  science  and  patriotic  insight 
into  the  future  of  his  country.  The 
brilliant  acts  of  the  navy  in  the  Medi 
terranean,  in  conflict  with  the  Barbary 
powers,  came  also  to  swell  the  triumphs 
of  the  administration,  and  Jefferson,  at 
the  next  Presidential  election,  was 
borne  into  office,  spite  of  a  vigorous 
opposition,  by  a  vote  of  one  hundred 
and  sixty-two  in  the  electoral  college 
to  fourteen  given  to  Charles  Cotesworth 
Pinckney. 


The  main  events  of  this  second  ad 
ministration  were  the  trial  of  Burr  for 
his  alleged  western  conspiracy,  in  which 
the  President  took  a  deep  interest  in 
the  prosecution,  and  the  measures 
adopted  against  the  naval  aggressions 
of  England,  which  culminated  in  the 

O  ' 

famous  "  Embargo,"  by  which  the  for 
eign  trade  of  the  country  was  annihi 
lated  at  a  blow,  that  Great  Britain 
might  be  reached  in  her  commercial 
interests.  The  state  of  things  was  pe 
culiar.  America  had  been  grievously 
wronged  in  her  unsettled  relations  with 
England,  and  not  only  assailed,  but 
insulted  in  the  attack  on  the  Chesa 
peake  and  seizure  of  her  men.  "What 
was  to  be  done  ?  The  question  was 
not  ripe  for  war.  The  Embargo  was 
accepted  as  an  alternative,  but  its  im 
mediate  pressure  at  home  was  even 
greater  than  war.  The  disasters  of  the 
latter  in  the  injuries  inflicted  on  our 
commerce,  would  have  been  vast ;  but 
they  would  have  been  casual,  and  might 
have  been  escaped.  Not  so  this  self- 
denying  ordinance  of  the  Embargo, 
which  prohibited  American  vessels 
from  sailing  from  foreign  ports,  and  all 
foreign  vessels  from  taking  out  cargoes : 
it  was  a  constant  force,  acting  to  the 
destruction  of  all  commerce.  It,  more- 
over,  directed  the  course  of  trade  from 
our  own  shores  to  others,  whence  it 
mi^ht  not  easily  be  recalled.  All  this 
must  have  been  seen  by  the  Adminis 
tration  which  resorted  to  the  measure 
£S  a  temporary  expedient.  It,  of  course, 
called  down  a  storm  of  opposition  from 
the  remnants  of  Federalism  in  the  com 
mercial  States,  which  ended  in  its  re 
peal  early  in  1809,  after  it  had  been  in 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


61 


operation  something  more  than  a  year. 
Immediately  after,  the  Presidency  of  its 
author  closed  with  his  second  term, 
leaving  the  country,  indeed,  in  an  agi 
tated,  unsettled  state  in  reference  to  its 
foreign  policy,  but  with  many  elements 
at  home  of  enduring  prosperity  and 
grandeur.  The  territory  of  the  nation 
had  been  enlarged,  its  resources  de 
veloped,  and  its  financial  system  con 
ducted  with  economy  and  masterly 
ability ;  time  had  been  gained  for  the 
inevitable  coming  struggle  with  Eng 
land,  and  though  the  navy  was  not 
looked  to  as  it  should  have  been,  it  had 
more  than  given  a  pledge  of  its  future 
prowess  in  its  achievements  in  the 
Mediterranean. 

He  wras  now  sixty-six,  nearly  the  full 
allotment  of  human  life,  but  he  was 
destined  to  yet  seventeen  years  of  hono 
rable  exertion — an  interval  marked  by 
his  popular  designation,  "  the  sage  of 
Monticello,"  in  which  asperities  might 
die  out,  and  a  new  generation  learn  to 
reverence  him  as  a  father  of  the  State. 
He  had  been  too  much  of  a  reformer 
not  to  suffer  more  than  most  men  the 
obloquy  of  party,  and  he  died  without 
the  true  Thomas  Jefferson  being  fully 
known  to  the  public.  In  his  last  days 
he  spoke  of  the  calumny  to  which  he 
had  been  subjected  with  mingled  pride 
and  charitable  feeling.  He  had  not 
considered,  he  said,  in  words  worthy 
of  remembrance,  "  his  enemies  as 
abusing  him ;  they  had  never  known 
"him.  They  had  created  an  imaginary 
being  clothed  with  odious  attributes, 
to  whom  they  had  given  his  name  ;  and 
it  was  against  that  creature  of  their 
imaginations  they  had  levelled  their 


anathemas."  *  We  may  now  penetrate 
within  that  home,  oven,  in  the  intimacy 
of  his  domestic  correspondence,  within 
that  breast,  and  learn  something  of  the 
man  Thomas  Jefferson.  His  question 
ing  turn  of  mind,  and,  to  a  certain  ex- 
o 

tent,  his  unimaginative  temperament, 
led  him  to  certain  views,  particularly 
in  matters  of  religion,  which  were 
thought  at  war  with  the  welfare  of 
society.  But  whatever  the  extent  of 
his  departure,  in  these  things,  from  the 
majority  of  the  Christian  world,  he 
does  not  appear,  even  in  his  own  family, 
to  have  influenced  the  opinion  of  others. 
His  views  are  described,  by  those  who 
have  studied  them,  to  resemble  those 
held  by  the  Unitarians.  He  was  not 
averse,  however,  on  occasion,  to  the 
services  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  which, 
says  Mr.  Randall,  "he  generally  at 
tended,  and  when  he  did  so,  always 
carried  his  prayer-book,  and  joined  in 
the  responses  and  prayers  of  the  con 
gregation."  Of  the  Bible  he  was  a 
great  student,  and,  we  fancy,  derived 
much  of  his  Saxon  strength  of  expres 
sion  from  familiarity  with  its  language. 
If  any  subject  was  dearer  to  his 
heart  than  another,  in  his  latter  days, 
it  was  the  course  of  education  in  the 
organization  and  government  of  his 
favorite  University  of  Virginia.  The 
topic  had  long  been  a  favorite  one, 
dating  as  far  back  with  him  as  his 
report  to  the  Legislature  in  1779.  It 
was  revived  in  some  efforts  made  in  his 
county  in  1814,  which  resulted  in  the 
establishment  of  a  college  that  in  1818 


1  Letter  from  Colonel  T.  J.  Randolph  to  Henry  8.  Ran- 
dall.     Randall'?  Life  of  Jefferson,  ID.  544. 


62 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON. 


gave  place  to  the  projected  University. 
Its  courses  of  instruction  reflected  Iris 
tastes,  its  government  was  of  his  con 
trivance,  he  looked  abroad  for  its  first 
professors,  and  its  architectural  plans, 
in  which  he  took  great  interest,  were 
mainly  arranged  by  him.  He  was 
chosen  by  the  Board  of  Visitors, 
appointed  by  the  Governor,  its  Hector, 
and  died  holding  the  office.  An  in 
scription  for  his  monument,  which  was 
found  among  his  papers  at  his  death, 
reads :  "  Here  lies  buried,  Thomas 
Jefferson,  author  of  the  Declaration 
of  American  Independence,  of  the 
Statute  of  Virginia  for  Religious  Free 
dom,  and  Father  of  the  University  of 
Virginia." 

The  time  was  approaching  for  its 
employment,  as  the  old  statesman  lin 
gered  with  some  of  the  physical  infirm 
ities,  few  of  the  mental  inconveniences 
of  advanced  life.  His  fondness  for 
riding  blood  horses  was  kept  up  almost 
to  the  last,  and  he  had  always  his 
family,  his  friends,  his  books — faithful 
to  the  end  to  the  sublimities  of  ^Eschy- 
lus,  the  passion  of  his  younger  days. 
He  was  much  more  of  a  classical,  even, 
than  of  a  scientific  scholar,  we  have 
heard  it  said  by  one  well  qualified  to 
form  an  opinion;  but  this  was  a  taste 
which  he  did  not  boast  of,  and  which, 
happily  for  his  enjoyment  of  it,  his 
political  enemies  did  not  find  out.  In 
the  decline  of  life,  when  debt,  growing 
out  of  old  encumbrances  and  new 
expenses  on  his  estates,  was  pressing 
upon  him,  these  resources  were  unfail 
ing  and  exacted  no  repayments.  His 
pen,  too,  ever  ready  to  give  wings  to  his 


thought,  was  with  him.  Even  in  those 
last  days,  preceding  the  national  anniver 
sary  which  marked  his  death,  he  wrote 
with  his  wonted  strength  and  fervor : 
"  All  eyes  are  opened  or  opening  to  the 
rights  of  man.  The  general  spread  of 
the  light  of  science  has  already  laid 
open  to  every  view  the  palpable  truth, 
that  the  mass  of  mankind  have  not 
been  born  with  saddles  on  their  backs, 
nor  a  favored  few  booted  and  spurred, 
ready  to  ride  them  legitimately,  by  the 
grace  of  God."  This  was  the  last  echo 
of  the  fire  which  was  wont  to  inspire 
senates,  which  had  breathed  in  the 
early  councils  of  liberty,  which  had 
kept  pace  with  the  progress  of  the  na 
tion  to  a  third  generation.  A  few  days 
after,  at  noon  of  the  day  which  had 
given  the  Republic  birth,  to  the  music 
of  his  own  brave  words,  exactly  fifty 
years  after  the  event ;  in  full  conscious 
ness  of  his  ebbing  moments,  with  tran 
quillity  and  equanimity,  passed  from 
earth  the  soul  of  Thomas  Jeiferson. 
His  old  comrade,  John  Adams,  lingered 
at  Braintree  a  few  hours  longer,  think 
ing  of  his  friend  in  his  dying  moments, 
as  he  uttered  his  last  words :  "  Thomas 
Jefferson  still  survives."  They  were 
too  late  for  fact,  but  they  have  been 
accepted  for  prophecy,  and  in  this 
spirit  they  are  inscribed  as  the  motto 
to  the  latest  memorial  of  him  of  whom 
they  were  spoken.  Thus,  on  the  fourth 
of  July,  1826,  passed  away  the  two 
great  apostles  of  American  liberty; 
the  voice  which,  louder,  perhaps,  than 
any  other,  had  called  for  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence,  and  the  hand 
that  penned  it. 


JAMES    MADISON. 


JAMES  MADISON,  the  fourth  President 
of  the  United  States,  was  descended 
from  an  old  family  of  Virginia  planters, 
which  is  traced  to  the  first  annals  of 
the  country,  in  the  records  of  the  great 
pioneer,  Captain  John  Smith.  A 
branch  of  the  family  is  distinguished 
in  the  history  of  western  settlement  be 
yond  the  Alleghanies.  The  first  bishop 
of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church 
of  Virginia  bore  the  same  name  with 
the  President,  and  was  related  to  him. 

The  family  seat  of  the  branch  of  the 
Madisons,  which  gave  birth  to  the  sub 
ject  of  our  sketch,  was  Montpelier,  in 
Orange  County,  Virginia.  It  was  the 
home  of  his  father  and  grandfather,  and 
became  celebrated  as  his  own  residence 
when  years  and  public  services  brought 
pilgrims  to  the  spot.  His  birthplace, 
however,  was  some  fifty  miles  distant, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock, 
near  Port  Royal,  at  the  estate  belonging 
to  his  maternal  grandmother,  where  his 
mother  was  then  on  a  visit. 

Mr.  Rives,  the  latest  biographer  of 
Madison,  speaks  of  the  ancient  seat  of 
hospitality,  Montpelier,  and  "the  pic 
turesque  grandeur  of  its  mountain 
scenery,"  enhanced  by  "  the  heartiness 
and  cordiality  of  its  possessors.  The 
mother  of  Mr.  Madison,  Eleanor  Con- 
way,"  he  continues,  "  must  in  her  day 


have  added  largely  to  the  attractions 
of  the  social,  as  she  undoubtedly  did  in 
the  highest  degree,  to  the  happiness, 
comfort  and  usefulness  of  the  domestic 
scene.  Nothing  is  more  touching  and 

o  o 

beautiful  in  the  life  of  her  illustrious 
son,  than  the  devoted  tenderness  for 
his  mother,  with  which  her  virtues  and 
character  inspired  him — ever  recurring 
with  anxious  thoughtful  ness,  in  the 
midst  of  his  most  important  occupa 
tions,  to  her  delicate  health,  and  after 
the  close  of  his  public  labors,  person 
ally  watching  over  and  nursing  her  old 
age  with  such  pious  care,  that  her  life 
was  protracted  to  within  a  few  years 
of  the  term  of  his  own.  His  father 
was,  no  less,  the  object  of  his  dutiful 
and  affectionate  attachment  and  respect. 
The  correspondence  between  them,  from 
the  period  of  young  Madison's  being 
sent  to  Princeton  College  in  1769,  to 
the  installation  of  the  matured  and  ho 
nored  statesman  in  the  office  of  Secre 
tary  of  State  in  1801,  when  the  father 
died,  has  been  carefully  preserved, 
and  shows  how  much  they  were 
bound  to  each  other  by  sentiments 
of  mutual  confidence  and  respect,  even 
more  than  by  ties  of  natural  affection." * 


1  History  of  the  Life  and  Times  of  James  Madison,  by 
William  C.  Kiv?*.   I.  8-9. 

68 


JAMES    MADISON. 


Such  influences  of  the  beauties  of 
nature  and  of  domestic  life,  are  favor 
able  to  a  happy  development  of  the 
youthful  faculties,  and  have  much  to 
do  with  the  man's  future  career.  The 
young  Madison  was  a  well  disposed, 
teachable  youth.  He  received  his  edu 
cation  at  a  boarding-school  kept  in  the 
neighboring  King  and  Queen  County, 
by  Donald  Robertson,  a  learned  Scotch 
man,  with  whom  he  was  placed  for  a 
few  years,  at  the  age  of  twelve.  Re 
turning  to  his  home,  he  was  prepared 
for  college  by  the  clergyman  of  the 
parish,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Martin,  who 
had  his  home  under  the  paternal  roof. 
Princeton  College,  New  Jersey,  had 
then  risen  into  distinction  by  the  acqui 
sition  of  a  President  of  great  acuteness 
of  mind  and  fine  literary  and  philo 
sophical  attainments,  John  Wither- 
spoon,  who  bore  a  prominent  part  in 
the  Revolution,  and  whose  name  adorns 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  To 
Princeton,  then,  at  this  time,  flocked 
the  youth,  who  were  to  be  emphatically 
the  men  of  the  new  generation.  Madi 
son  was  foremost  among  the  number, 
and  by  his  side  were  Samuel  Stanhope 
Smith,  the  future  accomplished  divine, 
Hugh  Henry  Brackenridge,  the  stalwart 
author  of  "Modern  Chivalry,"  Philip 
Freneau,  a  man  of  great  talent,  the 
verse-maker  of  the  Revolution,  who  was 
his  classmate,  William  Bradford,  Aaron 
Burr,  and  four  future  governors  of 
States — John  Henry,  of  Maryland, 
Morgan  Lewis,  of  New  York,  Aaron 
Ogden,  of  New  Jersey,  and*  Henry  Lee, 
of  Virginia.1 


1  We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Rives  for  this  enumeration, 
with  the  exception  of  Freneau,  whom  he  has  omitted. 


Madison  was  an  ardent  student, 
stealing  hours  from  sleep  for  his  books, 
and  compressing  the  labors  of  the  four 
years'  College  course  into  three.  This 
devotion  enabled  him  to  graduate  in 
1*771,  a  year  earlier  than  he  would 
otherwise  have  done ;  but  it  cost  him 
an  illness  which  he  sought  to  repair  by 
a  continued  residence  at  Princeton, 
which  was  not  without  its  advantages 
in  the  counsel  of  Witherspoon,  who 
greatly  admired  the  sagacity  and  pru 
dence  of  his  pupil,  and  in  the  oppor 
tunity  of  watching  the  opening  move 
ments  of  the  Revolution  at  New  York. 
Madison  left  Princeton  with  a  mind 
imbued  with  literature,  a  polished  style 
of  composition,  and  religious  convic 
tions  strengthened  by  much  thought 
and  extensive  reading. 

He  now  for  a  while  employed  his 
time  at  home  in  liberal  studies,  and 
assisted  in  the  education  of  his  younger 
brothers.  His  correspondence  with 
his  friend,  William  Bradford,  at  this 
time,  shows  an  ardent,  ingenuous,  open 
ing  manhood,  kindling  at  the  evils  of 
the  times,  the  union  of  poverty  and 
luxury,  the  prevalence  of  vice  and 
wickedness,  and  the  defects  of  the 
clergy,  and  especially  the  persecutions 
which  were  then  rife  in  his  neighbor 
hood,  under  the  church  and  State  legis 
lation,  directed  against  some  unfortu 
nate  Baptist  dissenters. 

The  sentiment  of  opposition  to  Brit 
ish  authority,  which  had  sprung  up 
simultaneously  from  foregone  conclu 
sions  in  the  minds  of  the  intelligent 
patriots  of  the  country,  was  now  .to  as 
sume  form  in  active  services.  Madison 
was  among  the  earliest  to  give  expres- 


JAMES    MADISON. 


eion  to  it.  He  anticipated  the  famous 
resolutions  of  Henry  in  1775,  and  upon 
that  popular  leader's  success  in  the 
affair  of  the  powder  with  Dunmore, 
drew  up.  in  May  of  that  year,  an  ad 
dress  of  thanks  for  the  Orange  County 
committee.  In  the  first  General  Con 
vention  of  the  State  of  Virginia,  which 
organized  its  independence  the  follow 
ing  year  at  Williamsburg,  Madison 
was  a  delegate  from  his  district.  He 
was  one  of  the  committee  appointed  to 
frame  a  Constitution,  and,  under  the 
leadership  of  George  Mason,  rendered 
valuable  services  to  that  instrument. 
He  was  the  author,  in  particular,  of  an 
important  amendment  of  the  original 
draft  of  the  Declaration  of  Rights, 

O  ' 

which  substituted  for  the  word  "  tolera 
tion,"  in  matters  of  religion,  a  full  ex 
pression  of  the  absolute  right  to  the 
exercise  of  freedom.  Madison  sat  with 
Jefferson  in  the  first  Legislative  Assem- 

O 

bly  under  the  Constitution  at  Wil 
liamsburg,  but  lost  his  election  to  the 
next  session  by  his  resistance  to  the 
popular  custom,  inherited  from  the 
Anglican  colonial  times,  of  treating 
the  electors.  His  opponents  were  not 
so  scrupulous;  and  he  was  defeated. 
To  make  amends  for  this  turn  of  af 
fairs,  the  legislative  body  chose  him  a 
member  of  its  Council  of  State.  He 
held  this  position  till  he  was  sent  by 
the  Assembly  to  the  National  Congress 
of  1780,  at  Philadelphia,  in  which  he 
served  till  the  conclusion  of  peace. 
The  services  rendered  by  him  during 
this  period  were  rather  those  of  a 
counsellor  and  committee  man  than  of 
a  debater.  Indeed,  a  constitutional 
modesty  and  diffidence  'long  withheld 
9 


him  from  public  displays  of  the  kind, 
and  it  was  only  by  degrees  that  he 
conquered  the  inability  or  reluctance. 
"  So  extreme,"  we  are  told,  "  was  his 
diffidence,  that  it  was  Mr.  Jefferson's 
opinion'that  if  his  first  public  appear 
ance  had  taken  place  in  such  an  assem 
bly  as  the  House  of  Representatives  of 
the  United  States,  Mr.  Madison  would 
never  have  been  able  to  overcome  his 
aversion  to  display.  But  by  practice, 
first  in  the  Executive  Council  of  Vir 
ginia,  and  afterwards  in  the  Old  Con 
gress,  which  was  likewise  a  small  body, 
he  was  gradually  habituated  to  speech- 
making  in  public,  in  which  he  became 
so  powerful."  J 

But  if  we  hear  little  of  the  oratory 
of  Madison,  there  is  much  to  be  said 
of  his  services  to  the  Old  Congress. 
They  were  those  of  the  statesman  con 
tinually  employed  in  eking  out  the 
resources,  sustaining  the  credit,  and 
adjusting  the  irregular  machinery  of  an 
imperfect  system  of  government.  After 
the  first  glow  of  patriotism,  and  the 
ardor  of  remonstrance,  in  the  early 
scenes  of  the  Revolution,  there  was 
more  of  toil  than  of  glory  in  the  later 
labors  of  Congress.  It$  feeble  powers, 
even  under  the  Articles  of  Confedera 
tion,  its  unsettled  authority,  the  di 
vided  allegiance  of  the  people  of  the 
States,  its  shifts  in  the  government  of 
the  army,  its  failures  in  finance,  its  un 
equal  foreign  diplomacy,  all  productive 
of  jarring  and  discord,  had,  indeed,  one 
compensation.  They  were  well  calcu 
lated  to .  discipline  the  statesmen  who 
engaged  in  them,  atid  enlighten  the 

1  Biographical   Sketch    of  Madison.     Democratic    Re 
view,  March,  1839. 


66 


JAMES    MADISON. 


public  on  the  necessities  and  claims  of 
a  just  government.  Out  of  the  troubled 
strife  and  confusion  came  forth,  with 
others,  Jay,  Hamilton,  and  Madison, 
and  the  nation,  after  being  long  in 
pain,  brought  forth  the  Constitution. 

We  may  refer  Madison's  chief  labors 
to  one  or  other  of  these  trials  which 
we  have  enumerated.  We  find  him, 
for  instance,  at  one  time  discharging, 
with  consummate  ability,  what  would 
now  fall  to  a  Secretary  of  State,  namely, 
the  preparation  of  a  paper  to  be  sent 
to  the  minister  in  Spain,  enforcing  the 
claim  to  the  free  navigation  of  the 
Mississippi;  and  when  the  force  of  his 
argument  had  established  his  positions 
to  the  admiration  of  all  men,  he  is  com 
pelled  to  combat  the  opposition  of  his 
own  State,  and  witness  a  degrading 
withdrawal  by  Congress  of  the  proud 
instructions  he  had  forwarded  to  the 
plenipotentiary  at  Madrid. 

At  another  time,  he  is  ens;aa;ed  in 

/  O      O 

advocating  a  simple  and  necessary- 
revenue  system  of  duties,  to  discharge 
the  obligations  of  the  war  and  sustain 
public  credit,  a  measure  which  is 
thwarted  by  State  opposition,  when 
his  own  Virginia  falls  away  from  her 
resolves,  but  which  he  returns  to,  and 
again  works  upon  till  it  is  brought, 
with  increased  authority,  before  Con 
gress,  and  submitted  to  the  States,  ac 
companied  by  a  masterly  appeal  from 
his  pen.  And  yet  the  work  is  not 
done.  It  is  left  as  a  legacy  to  the 
Government  to  come. 

During  his  residence  in  Philadelphia, 
Madison  formed  an  unrequited  attach 
ment  for  the  daughter  of  General  Floyd, 
a  New  York  delegate,  which  drew  forth 


from  Jefferson  a  philosophical  letter  of 
consolation  under  his  disappointment, 
which  may  relieve  these  rather  dry 
details  of  political  duties.  "  I  sincerely 
lament,"  writes  Jefferson,  who  was  an 
acquaintance  of  the  lady,  "  the  misad 
venture  which  has  happened,  from 
whatever  cause  it  may  have  happened. 
Should  it  be  final,  however,  the  world 
still  presents  the  same  and  many  other 
resources  of  happiness,  and  you  possess 
many  within  yourself.  Firmness  of 
mind  and  unintermitting  occupation 
will  not  long  leave  you  in  pain.  No 
event  has  been  more  contrary  to  my 
expectations,  and  these  were  founded 
on  what  I  thought  a  good  knowledge 
of  the  ground.  But  of  all  machines, 
ours  is  the  most  complicated  and  in 
explicable."  * 

Upon  his  return  to  Montpelier  from 
Congress,  Madison  directed  his  atten 
tion  again  to  the  study  of  the  law, 
which,  like  Bichard  Henry  Lee,  he  pur 
sued  rather  with  a  view  to  statesman 
ship,  than  with  any  intention  to  engage 
in  the  ordinary  conflicts  of  the  profes 
sion.  From  1*784  to  1786,  he  was  in 
the  State  legislature,  which  he  re- 
entered  with  the  full  intention  to 
bring  to  the  service  of  Virginia  and  the 
country  the  lessons  of  experience  which 
he  had  derived  from  his  labors  in  the 
Congress.  In  his  own  words,  "  I  ac 
ceded  to  the  desire  of  my  fellow  citizens 
of  the  county,  that  I  should  be  one  of 
its  representatives  in  the  Legislature, 
hoping  that  I  might  there  best  con 
tribute  to  inculcate  the  critical  posture 
to  which  the  Revolutionary  cause  was 


1  MS.  letter  cited  in  Rives1  Life  of  Madison,  I.  523. 


JAMES    MADISON. 


reduced,  and  the  merit  of  a  leading 
agency  of  the  State  in  bringing  about 
a  rescue  of  the  Union  and  the  blessings 
of  liberty  staked  on  it,  from  an  impend 
ing  catastrophe."1  The  most  important 
of  his  employments  in  this  capacity, 
relate  to  the  internal  improvements  of 
the  State  and  its  commercial  condition, 
in  which  he  seconded  the  plans  of 
Washington ;  the  proposed  mode  of 
supporting  the  clergy  by  assessment, 
advocated  by  Patrick  Henry,  which  he 
defeated ;  and  the  adjustment  of  the 
British  debts,  which  he  sought  to  bring 
about  in  furtherance  of  the  treaty  obli 
gation  of  the  General  Government. 
His  measures  were  especially  directed 
to  the  support  of  the  confederacy,  in 
the  regulation  of  trade  and  commerce. 
For  this  purpose,  he  drafted  the  reso 
lution  of  Jan.  21,  1786,  appointing 
Commissioners  to  'assemble  at  a  time 
and  place  to  be  agreed  on  with  the 
delegates  of  other  States  who  should 
accept  the  invitation,  to  take  into  con 
sideration  the  commercial  questions  at 
issue.  The  representatives  of  five 
States — New  York,  New  Jersey,  Penn 
sylvania,  Delaware  and  Virginia — 
assembled,  in  September,  at  Annapolis, 
Maryland,  which  was  chosen  for  its 
remoteness  from  the  seat  of  Congress 
and  the  large  cities.  The  attendance 
was  inadequate  to  the  intended  object, 
but  the  meeting  had  one  memorable  re 
sult.  It  brought  together  Alexander 

O  O 

Hamilton  and  James  Madison,  and  by 
its  emphatic  recommendation  drawn 
up  by  Hamilton,  enlarging  the  objects 


1  Introduction  to  the  Debates  in  the  Convention. 
Madison  Papers,  II.  693. 


The 


of  the  meeting,  led  directly  to  the 
Federal  Convention  of  the  ensuing 
year.  Madison  urged  upon  the  Vir 
ginia  Assembly  compliance  with  tho 
suggestions  at  Annapolis,  and  he  was 
himself  chosen  as  one  of  the  delegates 
to  the  new  body,  having  among  his 
colleagues  from  his  native  State,  Wash 
ington,  Mason  and  Wythe.  Virginia 
thus  stood  foremost  in  the  work  of  the 
Convention.  Madison  approached  his 
great  work — the  great  work  of  his 
life — with  a  solemn  sense  of  its  im 
portance  and  responsibility.  No  one 
knew  better  than  himself  the  absolute 
necessity  of  national  union,  to  be  ex 
pressed  in  a  system  of  law  comprehend 
ing  the  whole  and  protecting  the 
several  parts.  No  one  worked  more 
faithfully  in  the  Convention,  which 
made  a  mighty  nation  out  of  jarring 
and  discordant  States.  Madison  was 
so  impressed  with  the  future  import  of 
the  work  in  which  he  was  engaged, 
that  he  added  to  the  labors  of  debate 
the  Herculean  task  of  preparing,  day 
by  day,  a  report  of  the  proceedings  of 
the  Convention,  embracing  all  the 
speeches  and  discussions.  "  The  curi 
osity  I  had  felt,"  he  says,  in  a  prelimi 
nary  essay  prefixed  to  this  manuscript 
history,  which  he  left  unpublished  at 
his  death  as  a  legacy  to  his  country, 
"  during  my  researches  into  the  history 
of  the  most  distinguished  confederacies, 
particularly  those  of  antiquity,  and  the 
deficiency  I  found  in  the  means  of 
satisfying  it,  more  especially  in  what 
related  to  the  process,  the  principles, 
the  reasons  and  the  anticipations  which 
prevailed  in  the  formation  of  them, 
determined  me  to  preserve,  as  far  as  I 


JAMES    MADISON. 


could,  an  exact  account  of  what  might 
pass  in  the  Convention  whilst  executing 
its  trust,  with  the  magnitude  of  which 
I  was  duly  impressed,  as  I  was  by  the 
gratification  promised  to  future  curi 
osity  by  an  authentic  exhibition  of  the 
objects,  the  opinions  and  the  reasonings 
from  which  the  new  system  of  govern 
ment  was  to  receive  its  peculiar  struc 
ture  and  organization.  Nor  was  I 
unaware  of  the  value  of  such  a  contri 
bution  to  the  fund  of  materials  for  the 
history  of  a  Constitution,  on  which 
would  be  staked  the  happiness  of  a 
people  great  even  in  its  infancy,  and 
possibly  the  cause  of  liberty  through 
out  the  world." 

The  pains  taken  by  Madison  in  the 
preparation  of  this  work  was  extrordi- 
nary.  He  selected  a  seat  near  the  chair 
man,  where  nothing  that  passed  would 
escape  him ;  made  abbreviated  notes  of 
all  that  was  read  and  said ;  not  a  little, 
he  tells  us,  aided  by  practice  and 
familiarity  with  the  style  and  train  of 
observation  and  reasoning  of  the  prin 
cipal  speakers ;  wrote  out  these  notes 
when  the  Convention  was  not  in  ses 
sion  ;  in  a  very  few  instances  being 
aided  by  the  revisions  or  supervision 
of  the  speakers.  So  important  were 
these  private  labors  of  Madison,  that 
when  Congress,  in  1819,  undertook  the 
publication  of  the  Journal  of  the  Con 
vention,  Madison  was  called  upon  to 
complete  its  imperfect  official  outline. 
He  left  the  Debates,  at  his  death,  care 
fully  prepared  for  the  press,  with  direc 
tions  in  his  will  for  their  publication. 
Failing  to  secure  satisfactory  arrange 
ments  with  publishers,  his  widow  sub 
mitted  the  affair  to  President  Jackson. 


He  brought  it  before  Congress,  the  pub 
lication  was  provided  for  by  that  body, 
and  thirty  thousand  dollars  were  ap 
propriated  to  Mrs.  Madison  for  the 
copyright.  The  work  finally  appeared, 
more  than  half  a  century  after  the  dis 
cussions  which  it  recorded,  in  1840, 
when  the  public  learnt,  for  the  first 
time,  the  full  histoiy  of  the  Conven 
tion.  The  Madison  Papers  also  include 
another  series  of  Debates  in  the  Con 
gress  of  the  Confederation,  taken  in  the 
years  1782-3,  and  1787  ;  for,  reap- 
pointed  in  1786,  Madison  was  also  a 
member  of  the  old  Congress  at  its  final 
adjournment. 

The  work  of  the  Convention  being 
now  completed  in  the  formation  of  the 
Constitution,  it  was  next  to  be  sub 
mitted  to  the  States.  Madison,  in  con 
junction  with  Jay  and  Hamilton,  paved 
the  way  for  its  adoption  in  the  Papers 
of  the  Federalist,  originally  published 
in  a  New  York  journal.  The  contribu 
tions  written  by  him,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  are  twenty-nine  in  number,  ex 
hibiting,  among  other  points,  the  utility 
of  the  Union  as  a  safeguard  against 
domestic  faction  and  insurrection,  the 
anarchical  tendencies  of  mere  confede 
racies,  the  nature  of  the  proposed 
powers,  and  the  law  of  their  distribu 
tion.  The  paper  "  Concerning  the  diffi 
culties  which  the  Convention  must  have 
experienced  in  the  formation  of  a  pro 
per  plan,"  rises  into  a  philosophical  com 
ment  ;  and  certainly  no  one  could  write 
with  more  feeling  on  this  theme  than 
Madison. 

Madison  was  a  member  of  the  Eati- 
fying  Convention  in  Virginia,  where  its 
adoption  met  with  considerable  opposi- 


JAMES    MADISON. 


tion,  headed  by  Patrick  Henry,  who 
looked  upon  the  new  government  as  a 
sacrifice  of  State  interests.  So  decided 
was  his  antagonism  to  Madison,  as  its 
prominent  defender,  that  lie  defeated 
his  election  as  Senator  to  the  first  Con 
gress. 

He  was,  however,  chosen  by  the  elec 
tors  of  his  district  a  member  of  the 
House  of  Representatives,  in  which 
body  he  continued  to  serve  for  eight 
years.  In  the  interpretation  of  the  pow 
ers  of  the  Constitution,  and  in  regard  to 
the  policy  of  several  measures  of  go 
vernment,  he  differed  from  the  Adminis 
tration.  He  opposed  the  financial 
adjustments  of  Hamilton,  and  in  the 
course  of  the  French  agitations  •  led 

•  O  '   ** 

the  debate  in  opposition  to  the  British 
treaty. 

This  period  of  Congressional  life  was 
relieved  by  the  marriage  of  Madison, 
in  1794,  to  a  young  widow  of  Phila 
delphia,  Mrs.  Todd,  better  known  by 
her  maiden  name,  Dolly  Payne.  This 
lady  was  a  Virginian  by  birth,  of 
Quaker  parentage.  The  marriage  was 
a  most  happy  one.  The  vivacity  and 
amiable  disposition  of  Mrs.  Madison 
have  left  their  gentle  recollections  alike 
in  the  retirement  of  Montpelier,  and  the 
gay  salons  of  Washington.  Her  femi 
nine  grace  softened  the  asperities  and 
relieved  the  burden  of  political  life. 
After  soothing  the  protracted  age  of 
her  husband,  his  feebleness  and  his 
languors,  she  survived  many  years,  to 
be  honored  in  herself  and  in  his 
memory. 

After  the  close  of  his  Congressional 
life,  Madison  retired  with  his  wife 
to  his  books  and  home  pursuits  at 


Montpelier.  He  was  soon,  however, 
to  be  called  forth  again  into  the  arena 
by  the  agitations  of  the  times.  The 
extraordinary  measures  of  Adams,  the 
Alien  and  Sedition  laws,  which  grew 
out  of  the  attacks  upon  govern 
ment  in  the  French  excitement,  were 
violently  assailed  in  Virginia.  Mr. 
Madison  drafted  the  famous  resolu 
tions  of  the  Legislature  of  1708,  con 
demning  these  acts  of  the  Administra 
tion,  and  to  extend  their  influence  with 
the  public,  issued  his  Report. 

On  the  election  of  Jefferson  to  the 
Presidency,  in  1801,  Madison  became 
Secretary  of  State,  and  discharged  the 
duties  of  the  office  till  he  was  called 
to  succeed  his  friend  at  the  head  of  the 
government,  in  1809.  It  was  a  period 
of  embarrassing  foreign  diplomacy,  of 
vexed  international  relations,  of  pro 
tracted  discussions  of  the  rights  of  neu 
trals,  of  restrictions,  and  that  measure 
of  incipient  war,  the  embargo.  The  con 
test  with  England,  was  the  chief  event 

O 

of  Madison's  administrations.  He  was 
a  man  of  peace,  not  of  the  sword,  and 
needed  not  the  terror  and  indecorum  of 
the  flight  from  Washington,  and  the 
burning  of  the  capitol,  to  impress 
upon  him  its  unsatisfactory  necessities. 
Public  opinion  was  divided  as  to  the 
wisdom  of  the  contest.  The  embarrass 
ments  of  the  question  have  been  covered 
by  a  flood  of  glory,  but  little  perhaps 
was  gained  besides  the  victories,  which 
might  not  have  been  secured  a  little 
later  by  diplomacy.  The  war,  however, 
established  one  fact,  that  America  would 
fight,  at  whatever  cost,  in  defence  of 
her  violated  rights,  and  the  lesson  may 
have  assisted,  and  may  yet  be  destined 


70 


JAMES    MADISON. 


to  assist,  other  deliberations.  At  any 
rate,  it  is  to  the  credit  of  Madison, 
that  he  entered  upon  the  apparently 
inevitable  hostilities  with  reluctance, 
that  he  maintained  the  struggle  firmly, 
and  brought  it  to  an  early  close. 

Montpelier,  again,  in  181*7,  gave  its 
friendly  welcome  to  the  wearied  states 
man.  With  the  exception  of  his  par 
ticipation  as  a  member  of  the  Conven 
tion,  at  Richmond,  of  1829,  in  the 
revision  of  the  Constitution  of  Virginia, 
he  is  said  never  to  have  left  his  district 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  which, 
solaced  by  the  entertainment  of  books 
and  natural  history,  the  comforts  of 
domestic  life,  and  the  attentions  of  his 
countrymen  to  the  aged  patriot,  was 
protracted  at  his  mountain  residence, 
to  the  advanced  term  of  eighty-five 
years — an  extraordinary  period  for  a 
constitution  feeble  from  youth,  afflicted 
with  various  disorders,  and  exposed  to 
the  pressure  of  harassing  occupation. 
He  died  at  Montpelier,  June  28,  1836, 
the  last  survivor  of  that  second  noble 
band  of  signers,  the  signers  of  the 
Constitution. 

An  interesting  article,  contributed 
by  Professor  George  Tucker,  of  the 
University  of  Virginia,  of  which,  after 
the  death  of  Jefferson,  Madison  be 
came  rector,  to  the  "London  Penny 
Encyclopedia,"  supplies  us  with  a  few 
personal  anecdotes  of  the  man.  "In 
person  Mr.  Madison  was  below  the 
middle  size ;  though  his  face  was  ordi 
narily  homely,  when  he  smiled  it  was 
so  pleasing  as  to  be  almost  handsome. 
His  manner  with  strangers  was  re 
served,  which  some  regarded  as  pride, 


and  others  as  coldness ;  but,  on  further 
acquaintance,  these  impressions  were 
completely  effaced.  His  temper  seemed 
to  be  naturally  a  veiy  sweet  one,  and  to 
have  been  brought  under  complete  con 
trol.  When  excited,  he  seldom  showed 
any  stronger  indication  of  anger  than 
a  slight  flush  on  the  cheek.  As  a  hus 
band,  Mr.  Madison  was  without  re 
proach.  He  never  had  a  child.  He 
was  an  excellent  master,  and  though  he 

'  O 

might  have  relieved  himself  from  debt, 
and  secured  an  easy  income,  he  could 
never  be  induced  to  sell  his  slaves,  ex 
cept  for  their  own  accommodation,  to 
be  with  their  wives  or  husbands.  The 
writer  has  sometimes  been  struck  with 
the  conferences  between  him  and  some 
trusty  servant  in  his  sick  chamber,  the 
black  seeming  to  identify  himself  with 
his  master  as  to  plans  of  management, 
and  giving  his  opinions  as  freely,  though 
not  offensively,  as  if  conversing  with  a 
brother.  ....  With  great  powers  of 
argument,  he  had  a  fine  vein  of  humor ; 
he  abounded  in  anecdote,  told  his 
stories  very  well,  and  they  had  the 
advantage  of  being  such  as  were  never 
heard  before,  except  perhaps  from  him 
self.  Such  were  his  conversational 
powers,  that  to  the  last  his  house  was 
one  of  the  most  pleasant  to  visit,  and 
his  society  the  most  delightful  that  can 
be  imagined.  Yet  more  than  half  his 
time  he  suffered  bodily  pain,  and  some 
times  very  acute  pain." 

"  Purity,  modesty,  decorum — a  mo 
deration,  temperance,  and  virtue  in 
everything,"  said  the  late  Senator  Ben- 
ton,  "  were  the  characteristics  of  Mr. 
Madison's  life  and  manners." 


JAMES    MONROE. 


JAMES  MOXROE,  the  fifth  President 
of  the  United  States,  was  born  in  April, 
1758,  in  Westmoreland  County,  Vir 
ginia,  on  the  Potomac,  a  region  remark 
able  in  the  history  of  the  country  as 
the  birth-place  of  "Washington,  Madi 
son,  and  of  the  distinguished  family  of 
the  Lees.  Monroe's  ancestors  had  been 
long  settled  on  the  spot.  The  names 
of  his  parents  were  Spence  Monroe  and 
Elizabeth  Jones ;  and,  to  our  regret, 
the  scant  biographies  of  the  President 
tell  us  nothing  more  of  them.  Their 
son  was  educated  at  the  college  of  Wil 
liam  and  Mary,  which  he  left  to  take 
part  in  the  early  struggles  of  the  army 
of  Washington — a  cause  which  in  the 
breasts  of  Virginians  superseded  all 
^ordinary  occupation.  Like  Marshall 
and  others,  the  future  civilian  began 

o 

his  career  in  the  pursuits  of  war.  He 
joined  the  forces  of  Washington  at 
New  York,  in  time  to  participate  in 
the  courageous  retreat  after  the  battle 
of  Long  Island.  He  was  in  the  action 
at  Harlem  Heights,  and  the  subsequent 
battle  of  White  Plains,  and  was  in  the 
retreat  through  the  Jerseys.  He  led  a 
company  in  the  van  of  the  battle  of 
Trenton,  and  was  severely  wounded, 
a  service  in  the  field  which  procured 
him  a  captaincy.  He  was  with  Lord 
Stirling,  acting  as  his  aid  in  the  cam 


paigns  of  1777  and  1778,  and  distin 
guished  himself  at  the  Brandywine, 
Germantown  and  Moninouth.  Being 
thrown  out  of  the  regular  line  of  pro 
motion  by  accepting  his  staff  appoint 
ment,  he  was  anxious  to  regain  his  posi 
tion  in  the  line,  and  for  this  purpose 
was  sent  by  Washington  to  raise  a 
regiment  in  Virginia.  Failing  to  ac 
complish  this  object  he  remained  in  the 
State  and  directed  his  attention  to  the 
study  of  the  law,  under  the  direction 
of  Jefferson,  then  recently  elected  Go 
vernor.  He  took  no  further  part  witli 
the  army  at  the  north,  but  was  active 
as  a  volunteer  when  Virginia  became 
the  theatre  of  the  war  in  the  successive 
invasions  of  Arnold,  Phillips  and  Corn- 
wallis.  He  was  specially  employed  by 
Governor  Jefferson  in  1780,  to  visit  the 
southern  army  as  a  military  commis 
sioner,  to  report  on  its  conditions  ant  I 
prospects,  a  duty  which  he  performed 
to  the  full  satisfaction  of  the  Executive. 
In  1782  he  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  Virginia  Legislature,  and  shortly 
promoted  by  that  body  to  a  seat  in  its 
executive  council.  In  June  of  the  next 
year  he  was  chosen  member  of  Congress 
and  sat  in  that  body  at  its  meeting  at 
Annapolis  when  Washington  resigned 
his  military  commission  at  the  close  of 
the  war.  The  immediate  pressure  of 

71 


72 


JAMES    MONROE. 


the  necessary  steps  for  self-defence, 
which  gave  a  kind  of  cohesion  to  the 
loose  authority  of  the  old  Congress, 
being  now  removed,  attention  was 
drawn  in  the  most  forcible  manner  to 
its  defects  and  weaknesses.  A  poor  in 
strument  for  war,  it  was  utterly  inca 
pable  of  managing  the  responsibilities 
of  peace.  In  foreign  and  domestic  regu 
lations,  in  the  discharge  of  its  obliga 
tions,  in  raising  a  revenue,  in  giving 
uniformity  to  trade,  in  every  species  of 
judicial  determination,  it  was  lamenta 
bly  inefficient.  Monroe,  though  a 
young  legislator — he  was  only  twenty- 
four  when  he  entered  Congress,  and 
consequently  had  not  the  dearly-pur 
chased  experience  of  some  of  the  older 
members  who  had  exhausted  every  art 
of  labor  and  ingenuity  in  holding  the 
disjointed  fabric  together — yet  was  sa 
gacious  enough  to  see  the  difficulties 
of  the  confederacy,  and  was  judged  of 
sufficient  importance  in  council  to  ap 
ply  a  remedy.  He  took  part  in  the 
prominent  discussions,  and  in  1*785  in 
troduced  a  report  as  chairman  of  a  com 
mittee  intrusted  with  certain  resolu 
tions  of  Congress  regarding  the  levying 
of  an  impost,  and  a  call  upon  the  State 
legislatures  to  grant  the  power  of  regu 
lating  commerce.  He  reported  in  favor 
of  an  alteration  of  the  Articles  of  Con 
federation  to  meet  both  objects.  The 
necessity  of  some  provision  for  these 
objects  led  first  to  the  convention  at 
Annapolis,  where  the  initial  steps  were 
taken  to  bring  together  the  convention 
of  178*7,  at  Philadelphia,  which  origin 
ated  the  Constitution.  Another  mark 
of  confidence  in  the  abilities  of  Monroe 
was  his  selection  as  one  of  the  commis 


sioners  to  decide  upon  the  controverted 
boundary  between  New  York  and  Mas 
sachusetts,  in  1784.     He  accepted  the 
appointment,  but  delays  arising  in  the 
composition  of  the  board,  resigned  the 
office  before  the  case  came  to  a  hearing. 
Indeed  it  was  settled  without  resort  to 
the  court  at  allj  Mr.  Monroe  also  took 
part  in  the  discussions  touching  the  as 
sumptions  of  Spain  in  her  attempts  to 
close  the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi 
to  inland  American  commerce,  opposing 
the  concession  of  a  right  which  at  that 
time  began  to  be   resolutely  claimed, 
and  was  fortunately  at  no  very  distant 
day  established  by  treaty.     We  shall 
find  his  name   prominently  associated 
with  this  important  measure.     "  It  was 
the  qualities  of  judgment  and  persever 
ance  which  he  displayed  on  that  occa 
sion,"    says    Senator    Benton,    "  which 
brought  him  those  calls  to  diplomacy, 
in  which  he  was  afterwards  so  much 
employed  with  three  of  the  then  great 
est   European   powers — France,   Spain 
and  Great  Britain;  and  it  was  in  allu 
sion  to  this  circumstance  that  President 
Jefferson  afterwards,  when  the  right  of 
deposit  at  New  Orleans  had  been  vio 
lated  by  Spain,  and  when  a  minister 
was  wanted  to  recover  it,  said,  '  Monroe 
is  the  man :  the  defence  of  the  Missis 
sippi  belongs  to  him.'  "  1 

The  feeling  excited  by  the  discussion 
of  the  negotiation  between  the  North 
and  South  in  the  old  Congress,  led  him 
to  abandon  his  appointment  as  commis 
sioner  in  the  boundary  dispute  between 
New  York  and  Massachusetts.2 


1  Benton's  Thirty  Years'  View,  I.  680. 
8  Address  on  the  Life  and  Character  of  James  Monroe, 
by  John  Quincy  Adams. 


JAMES    MONROE. 


The  three  years'  service  of  MF.  Mon 
roe  in  Congress  closed  in  1786.  Dur 
ing  that  term  he  married  Miss  Kort- 
right,  a  lady  of  New  York,  of  an  old 
and  respectable  family  of  the  State, 
of  whose  personal  merits  we  may  wil 
lingly  accept  the  eulogy  of  President 
John  Quiiicy  Adams.  "  Of  her  attrac 
tions  and  accomplishments,"  says  he, "  it 
were  impossible  to  speak  in  terms  of 
exaggeration.  She  was,  for  a  period 
little  short  of  half  a  century,  the  cher 
ished  and  affectionate  partner  of  her 
husband's  life  and  fortunes.  She  ac 
companied  him  in  all  his  journeyings 
through  this  world  of  care,  from  which, 
by  the  dispensations  of  Providence,  she 
had  been  removed  only  a  few  months 
before  himself.  The  companion  of  his 
youth  was  the  solace  of  his  declining 
years,  and  to  the  close  of  life  enjoyed 
the  testimonial  of  his  affection,  that 
with  the  external  beauty  and  elegance 
of  deportment,  conspicuous  to  all  who 
were  honored  with  her  acquaintance, 
she  united  the  more  precious  and  en 
dearing  qualities  which  mark  the  ful 
filment  of  all  the  social  duties,  and 
adorn  with  grace  and  fill  with  enjoy 
ment  the  tender  relations  of  domestic 
life." 

At  the  close  of  this  Congress 
ional  term,  Mr.  Monroe  made  his  resi 
dence  at  Fredericksburg,  with  a  view 
to  the  practice  of  the  law,  and  was  pre 
sently,  in  1787,  returned  to  the  Assem 
bly  of  Virginia.  In  the  following  year 
he  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Con 
vention  of  the  State,  called  to  decide 
upon  the  acceptance  of  the  Constitu 
tion.  We  have  seen  the  part  which  he 
bore  in  the  discussions  of  the  old  Con- 
10 


gross  of  the  Confederacy  on  his  first 
admission  to  that  body  in  reference  to 
the  increase  of  its  powers.  When  the 
new  instrument  was  before  the  country 
and  under  deliberation  in  the  State 
Convention,  he  was  opposed  to  its 
adoption,  holding  that  certain  restric 
tions,  afterwards  embraced  in  the 
amendments,  should  precede  its  accept 
ance.  Notwithstanding,  however,  his 
opposition  to  its  provisions,  he  was 
early  appointed  to  an  important  office 
of  its  creation,  that  of  United  States 
senator,  to  which  he  was  elected  in 
1789,  on  the  decease  of  William  Gray- 
son,  one  of  the  first  members  chosen. 
He  continued  in  the  Senate  till  1794, 
when  he  was  appointed  by  Washing 
ton  minister  plenipotentiary  to  France, 
contemporaneously  with  Chief  Justice 
Jay  to  the  court  of  Great  Britain. 
Gouverneur  Moms,  from  his  sympathies 
with  royalty  and  his  undisguised  de 
clarations  of  his  sentiments,  had  become 
unpopular  with  the  French  court. 
Moreover,  his  recall  was  requested  as  a 
compensation  to  the  wounded  honor  of 
France  in  the  American  rejection  of 
Genet,  which  was  on  the  point  of  being 
consummated,  when  he  was  withdrawn. 
As  a  measure  of  reconciliation,  Wash 
ington  chose  a  successor  from  the  party 
supposed  particularly  to  favor  French 
ideas,  in  contradistinction  to  the  admir 
ers  of  England.  In  the  two  divisions 
of  the  country  between  France  and 
Great  Britain,  the  Republican  party 
was  of  the  former,  the  Federalists  of 
the  latter.  In  sending  Jay  to  England 
and  Monroe  to  France,  the  President 
was  conciliating  the  nations  to  whom 
they  were  commissioned,  and  parties  at 


JAMES    MONROE. 


home.  The  policy  of  Washington  was 
neutrality,  and  he  endeavored,  as  far  as 
was  consistent  with  the  public  welfare, 
to  treat  both  sides  with  strict  impar 
tiality.  There  were  more  popular 
grounds  of  leaning  to  France  ;  that  na 
tion  had  assisted  us  to  the  final  triumph 
which  gave  America  independence,  and 
so  had  the  better  claim  upon  our  sym 
pathies  in  comparison  with  an  enemy 
who  had  not  yet  learnt  to  respect  a 
successful  rebel.  But  familiar,  sponta 
neous  France  was  felt  to  be  more  ex 
acting  than  cold  and  distant  England. 
The  continental  nation  had  attempted 
to  play  the  part  of  a  dictator  in  Ameri 
can  affairs,  and  she  had  not  shown  the 
virtue  at  home  to  command  respect  to 
her  interference  abroad.  She  repre 
sented,  beside,  dangerous  political  the 
ories,  while  our  conservative  system 
was  essentially  based  on  the  authority 
of  English  precedents.  For  all  this,  it 
was  natural  that  the  administration  of 
Washington  should  incline  to  England 
when  a  decision  was  to  be  made  be 
tween  the  two  nations. 

Mr.  Monroe  arrived  in  Paris  August 
2,  1794,  and  was  well  received  by  the 
National  Convention,  when  he  brought 
himself  to  the  notice  of  that  body. 
His  reception  in  fact  was  enthusiastic. 
It  was  public,  in  the  Convention,  and 
as  the  minister  delivered  his  credentials 
it  was  decreed  "that  the  flag  of  the 
American  and  French  republics  should 
bo  united  together  and  suspended  in 
the  hall  of  the  Convention,  in  testimo 
ny  of  eternal  union  and  friendship  be 
tween  the  two  peoples.  To  evince  the 
impression  made  on  his  mind  by  this 
act,  and  the  grateful  sense  of  his  consti- 


tuents,  Mr.  Monroe  presented  to  the 
Convention  the  flag  of  the  United 
States,  which  he  prayed  them  to  accept 
as  a  proof  of  the  sensibility  with  which 
his  country  received  every  act  of  friend 
ship  from  its  ally,  and  of  the  pleasure 
with  which  it  cherished  every  incident 
which  tended  to  cement  and  consolid 
ate  the  union  between  the  two  nations." l 
These  congratulations  were  reciprocat 
ed  in  kind  by  the  transmission  of  a 
French  flag  to  the  United  States  by  the 
hands  of  the  new  minister,  M.  Adet, 
who  delivered  it  to  the  President  at 
his  reception.  Words,  however,  do  not 
always  express  deeds.  The  Govern 
ment  continued  not  only  jealous  of  any 
diplomatic  movements  of  the  United 
States  in  England,  but  pursued  a  sys 
tem  of  aggression  upon  American  com 
merce  and  trade,  little  if  anything  short 
of  actual  hostilities.  It  was  Mr.  Mon 
roe's  duty  to  negotiate  and  protest ; 
his  efforts  were  ineffectual  to  control 
the  agencies  at  work,  and  after  some 
thing  more  than  two  years  of  diploma 
cy  he  received  his  letters  of  recall, 
brought  by'  his  successor,  General 
Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney.  The 
mission  of  Monroe  was  officially  closed 
on  the  first  of  January,  1797,  when  he 
took  leave  of  the  Executive  Directory 
in  an  audience  specially  assigned  for 
the  purpose. 

It  was  no  doubt  the  impression  of 
Washington,  in  appointing  a  successor 
to  Monroe,  that  the  latter  had  in  some 
way  failed  properly  to  urge  the  views 
of  his  Government.  In  the  language 
of  his  cabinet,  of  which  Timothy  Pick- 

i  Marshall's  Life  of  Washington,  V.  726. 


.1 AMKS     MONROE. 


was  now  at  the  head.  a  whether 

' 

this  dangerous  omission  arose  from 
such  an  attachment  to  the  cause  of 
France  as  rendered  him  too  little  mind 
ful  of  the  interests  of  his  own  country, 
or  from  mistaken  views  of  the  latter,  or 
from  any  other  cause,  the  evil  is  the 
same ;"  they  therefore  advised  liis  re 
call.  It  may  be  mentioned  that  Wash 
ington  at  first  thought  of  sending  a 
minister  extraordinary  to  negotiate  by 
his  side  ;  but  this  he  was  unable  to  do 
without  the  action  of  Congress,  and 
that  body  was  not  now  in  session. 

On  his  return  to  the  United  States, 
Mr.  Monroe  thought  fit  to  meet  what 
he  conceived  an  unfair  judgment  of  his 
course  by  the  publication  of  a  volume 
entitled  "  A  View  of  the  Conduct  of 
the  Executive  in  the  Foreign  Affairs 
of  the  United  States,  connected  with 
the  Mission  to  the  French  Republic 
during  the  Years  1794-5-6,  illustrated 
by  his  Instructions  and  Correspondence, 
and  other  Authentic  Documents."  The 
book,  from  which  the  author  expressly 
refused  to  receive  any  profit,  was  pub 
lished  "  by  and  for  "  Benjamin  Frank 
lin  Bache,  at  the  office  of  the  "  Aurora," 
in  Philadelphia.  The  impression  it 
made  upon  Washington,  now  retired 
from  public  office  to  the  shades  of 
Mount  Vernon,  is  expressed  in  a  letter 
dated  March,  1798,  addressed  to  John 
Nicholas.  "  With  respect  to  Mr.  Mon 
roe's  '  View  of  the  Conduct  of  the  Ex 
ecutive  of  the  United  States/ '  he 
writes,  "  I  shall  say  but  little,  because, 
as  he  lias  called  it  a  '  view '  thereof,  I 
shall  leave  it  to  the  tribunal  to  which 
he  himself  has  appealed  to  decide,  first, 
how  far  a  correspondence  with  one  'of 


its  agents  is  entitled  to  the  unqualified 
term  he  has  employed  ;  secondly,  how, 
if  it  is  not,  it  is  to  exhibit  a  view  there 
of;  thirdly,  how  far  his  instructions, 
and  the  letters  he  has  received  from 
that  Executive,  through  the  constitu 
tional  organ,  and  to  which  he  refers, 
can  be  made  to  embrace  the  fjrtat  points 
which  he  and  his  party  are  evidently 
aiming  at,  namely,  to  impress  upon  the 
public  mind  that  favoritism  towards 
Great  Britain  has  produced  a  derelic 
tion,  in  the  Administration,  of  good 
will  toward  France."  Of  "  the  propri 
ety  of  exposing  to  public  view  his  pri 
vate  instructions  and  correspondence 
with  his  own  government,"  the  censure 
is  still  more  emphatic.  That  Washing 
ton  read  the  book  carefully,  is  witnessed 
by  his  copy  of  it  left  in  the  library  at 
Mount  Vernon,  copiously  annotated  by 
his  own  hand,  with  critical  marginal 
comments.1  It  is  to  the  credit  of  Mon 
roe,  that  when  the  immediate  occasion 
of  his  remonstrance  was  over  he  took 
the  opportunity  to  express  his  regard 
for  the  character  and  genius  of  both 
Washington  and  Jay.  His  eulogist, 
President  John  Qtiincy  Adams,  does 
justice  to  this  fair-mindedness.  After 
commending  the  saying  of  the  great 
orator,  statesman  and  moralist  of  anti 
quity,  when  reproached  for  reconcilia 
tion  with  a  bitter  antagonist,  that  he 
wished  his  enmities  to  be  transient,  and 
his  friendships  immortal,  he  adds, "  thus 
it  was  that  the  genial  mind  of  James 
Monroe,  at  the  zenith  of  his  public 
honors,  and  in  the  retirement  of  his 
latest  days,  cast  off,  like  the  suppura- 

1  Many  of  them  are  given  by  Mr.  Sparks,  in  Appeudix 
X.  to  his  eleventh  volume  of  Washington's  Writings. 


76 


JAMES    MONROE. 


tion  of  a  wound,  all  the  feelings  of 
unkindness,  and  the  severities  of  judg 
ment  which  might  have  intruded  upon 
his  better  nature,  in  the  ardor  of  civil 
discussion."  It  would  have  been  a  ran 
corous  nature  indeed  to  carry  into  the 
Presidential  chair,  when  Washington 
was  in  the  grave,  the  memory  of  an 
acerbity  obliterated  not  only  by  time, 
but  which  originally  grew  out  of  a 
policy  that  had  been  sanctioned  by  ex 
perience. 

—  Immediately  after  his  recall,  Mr. 
Monroe  was  returned  to  the  Virginia 
Legislature,  and  speedily  elected  Gov 
ernor  of  the  State,  holding  the  office  for 
the  constitutional  term  of  three  years. 
In  the  beginning  of  1803  he  was  again 
called  upon  by  the  President  to  pro 
ceed  to  France  as  minister  extraordinary 
to  take  part  in  the  negotiations  already 
commenced  by  the  resident  minister, 
Robert  R.  Livingston,  for  the  purchase 
or  cession  of  Louisiana,  which  in  the 
turn  of  European  fortunes  had  been 
yielded  by  Spain  to  France.  The  pro 
vince  was  likely  to  prove  a  new  instru 
ment  of  power,  or  plaything  in  the 
hands  of  the  successful  soldier  of  fortune 
who  directed  the  movements  of  armies 
at  his  will.  It  was  something  more 
than  a  mere  speculation  that  he  would 
turn  a  portion  of  his  force  to  the  New 
World.  The  troops  were  assembled  to 
embark  for  his  American  possessions 
on  the  Mississippi,  and  there  was  a 
prospect  of  far  greater  difficulties  as  to 
the  navigation  of  that  river  than  had 
ever  presented  themselves  in  the  feeble 
diplomacy  and  scant  authority  of  the 
former  Spanish  owners.  Livingston 
warned  his  government  at  home  of  the 


danger,  and  advised  preparation  to 
meet  the  emergency,  while  he  ex 
erted  every  nerve  to  bring  his  negotia 
tion  to  a  successful  issue.  The  ear  of 
the  First  Consul  would  probably  have 
proved  deaf  to  all  his  appeals  of  argu 
ment,  his  demonstrations  of  political 
economy  and  geography,  and  his  prof 
fers  of  payment,  had  not  the  short 
peace  of  Amiens  been  suddenly  inter 
rupted  by  symptoms  of  the  renewal 
of  the  European  struggle.  Napoleon 
wanted  his  men  at  home,  and  wished 
to  put  money  in  his  purse.  At  this 
opportune  moment  of  affairs,  Monroe 
arrived  in  Paris  in  the  spring  of  1803, 
in  time  to  share  in  the  lucky  negotia 
tion  already  commenced  by  Livingston, 
and  on  the  eve  of  proving  successful. 
When  the  will  of  a  nation  reposes  in 
the  breast  of  one  man,  the  slow  pro 
gress  of  diplomacy  may  sometimes  be 
greatly  shortened.  Within  a  month 
of  Monroe's  arrival,  on  the  30th  April, 
the  treaty  was  concluded  ceding  Louis 
iana  to  the  United  States.  Having  al 
ready,  in  our  account  of  the  life  of  Liv- 
ino-ston,  given  some  notice  of  the  most 

O  '    O 

important  details  of  the  negotiation,  it 
is  unnecessary  to  repeat  them  here. 
Suffice  it  that  a  more  advantageous 
purchase  has  seldom  if  ever  been  made 
by  any  nation  ;  for  it  was  not  only  an 
important  acquisition  in  itself,  larger 
than  the  country  had  any  reason  to  ex 
pect — not  only  did  it  include  a  vast- 
present  possession,  but  it  contained 
within  it,  to  vary  the  expression  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  "the  potentialities  of  power 
beyond  the  dreams  of  ambition,"  while 
for  those  whose  insight  did  not  extend 
to  posterity,  an  immediate  obstacle  to 


JAMES    MONROE. 


77 


commerce,  cause  of  peril,  and  even  pos- 
sible  danger  of  dismemberment,  was 
removed.  The  purchase  of  Louisiana 
was  the  glory  of  the  administration  of 
Jefferson,  The  statesman  who  in  our 
day  should  procure  the  cession  of  Lower 
Canada  from  England,  would  not  se 
cure  a  parallel  advantage. 

The  treaty  having  thus  been  promptly 
negotiated  at  Paris,  Mr.  Monroe  passed 
over  to  London,  the  successor  to  Rufu§ 
King  as  minister  plenipotentiary  to 
Great  Britain.  He  entered  immediately 
upon  his  duties,  and  was  busy  with  the 
open  maritime  questions  between  the 
two  nations,  when  he  was  called  off  by 
President  Jefferson,  to  proceed  to  Spain 
to  assist  Charles  Pinckney,  the  Ameri 
can  minister  at  that  court,  in  the  nego 
tiations  respecting  claims  for  damages 
and  the  settlement  of  the  disputed 
Louisiana  lx)undary  question.  Though 
little  resulted  at  the  time  from  the  dis 
cussions,  the  diplomatic  papers  of  Mon 
roe  remain,  in  the  language  of  Presi 
dent  Adams,  "  solid  monuments  of 
intellectual  power  applied  to  national 
claims  of  right,  deserving  the  close  and 
scrutinizing  attention  of  every  Ameri 
can  statesman." 

Mr.  Monroe  resumed  his  duties  in 
London  in  1805 — a  period  of  growing 
difficulty  for  an  American  minister  in 
Great  Britain,  bent  as  that  nation  was 
upon  the  destruction  of  the  rights  of 
neutral  nations  upon  the  seas.  In  this 
era  of  embarrassed  diplomacy,  he  gained 
what  admissions  could  be  gained  from 
the  reluctant  ministiy  of  Pitt  and  the 
partial  liberality  of  Fox,  when,  the  ag 
gressions  of  England  upon  the  higli 
seas  pressing  heavily  upon  American 


commerce,  William  Pinkney,  the  emi 
nent  lawyer  of  Maryland,  of  great  fame 
in  diplomacy,  was  sent  out  in  the  sum 
mer  of  1806,  as  his  coadjutor,  or  joint 
commissioner  in  the  negotiation.  Lords 
Auckland  and  Howick  were  appointed 
by  Fox  plenipotentiaries,  and  a  treaty 
was  in  the  beginning  of  1807  conclud 
ed,  by  no  means  what  was  desired  on 
the  part  of  America,  but,  as  in  the  case 
of  Jay,  the  best  which  could  be  ob 
tained  under  the  complicated  difficul 
ties  of  the  times,  when  England  had 
her  war  interests  to  maintain,  and  the 
United  States  had  not  the  means  of  en 
forcing  her  positions.  The  special 
effort  at  the  outset  was  to  induce  Eng 
land  to  waive  her  pretensions  to  the 
impressment  of  seamen,  an  abandon 
ment  of  her  assumed  rights  which  she 

O 

was  unwilling  to  make ;  for  this  and 
other  defects  President  Jefferson  sent 
back  the  treaty  for  revisal ;  but  Mr. 
Canning  having  succeeded  to  the  min- 

O  O 

istiy,  with  less  favorable  dispositions 
than  his  predecessor,  the  negotiation 
was  not  resumed. 

Monroe's  next  public  office  was  as  Go 
vernor  of  Virginia  for  the  second  time, 
in  1810 ;  and  towards  the  close  of  the 
following  year,  he  was  called  by  Madi 
son  to  the  Secretaryship  of  State,  a 
position  in  direct  line  to  the  Presi 
dency.  He  continued  in  this  relation^ 
to  the  Government  during  the  remain 
der  of  Madison's  two  terms,  discharg 
ing  at  the  close  of  the  contest  with 
Great  Britain,  the  additional  duties  of 
the  war  department.  His  efficiency  in 
these  relations,  in  which  .he  displayed 
force  and  activity,  marked  him  out  as 
the  successor  to  Madison  in  the  Presi- 


78 


JAMES    MONROE. 


dential  office.  Indeed  lie  had  been 
prominent  as  a  candidate  upon  his 
return  from  his  English  mission;  and 
his  spirited  and  energetic  conduct  in 
furthering  the  operations  of  the  war  in 
Congress,  had  greatly  added  to  his 
hold  upon  the  public.  He  was  the 
advocate  of  a  national  policy,  and 
when  funds  were  needed  in  the  embar 
rassed  financial  condition  of  the  times, 
pledged  his  own  fortune,  not  without 
future  embarrasment,  for  the  public 
welfare.  All  this  was  not  forgotten. 

O 

He  was  now  to  reap  the  fruits  of  a 
long  course  of  exertion  in  public  life, 
stretching  backward  to  his  early  days 
with  Washington  at  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  and  the  first  cam 
paign  of  the  Revolutionary  war.  All 
questions  were  at  rest,  time  and  the 
change  of  events  having  removed  them 
from  the  national  arena.  The  struggle 
over,  the  powers  of  the  Constitution 
had  in  a  great  measure  subsided,  as  the 
working  of  the  instrument  had  been 
proved  and  precedents  established; 
there  was  no  longer  a  French  and  Ens*- 

O  o 

lish  party  to  agitate  the  country.  "We 
can  hardly,  at  the  present  day,  estimate 
the  value  of  emancipation  from  the 
latter  embarrassment  of  the  days  of 
Washington  and  the  elder  Adams.  In 
the  words  of  an  eminent  statesman, 
whose  experience  covered  both  eras, 
John  Quincy  Adams.  a  We  have  now, 
neither  in  the  hearts  of  personal  rivals, 
nor  upon  the  lips  of  political  adversa 
ries,  the  reproach  of  a  devotion  to  a 
French  or  a  British  faction.  If  we 
rejoice  in  the  triumph  of  European 
arms,  it  is  in  the  victories  of  the  Cross 
over  the  Crescent.  If  we  gladden  with 


the  native  countrymen  of  Lafayette,  or 
sadden  with  those  of  Pulaski  and  Kos- 
ciusko,  it  is  the  gratulation  of  freedom 
rescued  from  oppression,  and  the  mourn 
ing  of  kindred  spirits  over  the  martyrs 
to  their  country's  independence.  We 
have  no  sympathies,  but  with  the  joys 
and  sorrows  of  patriotism;  no  attach 
ments,  but  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and 
of  man." 

•^Monroe  was  raised  to  the  Presidency, 
in  1819,  by  a  large  majority  of  the 
electoral  votes.  His  Inaugural,  which 
was  well  received  by  the  public,  intro 
duced  the  topics  of  a  new  era;  he 
urged  measures  for  the  national  defence, 

O  / 

and  favored  the  elements  of  national 
prosperity  in  internal  improvements 
and  home  manufactures.  His  concilia 
tory  policy  looking  to  the  welfare  of 
the  country  was  evident.  He  followed 
up  his  declarations  by  an  early  Presi 
dential  tour  through  the  Eastern  States, 
of  which,  says  Mr.  Hildreth,  the  histo 
rian,  "  embittered  and  hot-tempered 
leaders  of  parties,  who .  for  the  last 
seven  years  had  hardly  deigned  to 
speak  to  each  other,  or  even  to  walk  on 
the  same  side  of  the  street,  met  now 
with  smiling  faces,  vying  in  extrava 
gance  of  official  adoration.  The  '  era 
of  good  feeling'  having  thus  begun,  the 
way  was  rapidly  paved  for  that  com 
plete  amalgamation  of  parties,  which 
took  place  a  few  years  after?'  * 

The  chief  events  of  Mr.  Monroe's 
first  term  were  the  admission  of  Missis 
sippi,  Illinois  and  Alabama  as  new 
States  into  the  Union,  and  the  impor 
tant  cession  of  Florida  by  Spain,  in 


History  of  the  United  States,  2d  aeries  III.  623. 


JAMES    MONROE. 


79 


1819,  completing  the  work  of -annexa 
tion  commenced  in  the  purchase  of 
Louisiana.  When  the  time  for  reelec 
tion  came  round,  so  entire  was  the  sub 
sidence  of  party,  that  President  Monroe 
was  a^ain  chosen  with  but  one  dissent- 

O 

ing  vote,  that  of  New  Hampshire, 
which  was  given  to  John  Quincy 
Adams.  He  continued  to  pursue  a 
liberal  policy  of  internal  improvements 
within  the  limits  of  the  Constitution, 
to  forward  the  military  defences  on 
land,  and  the  growth  and  employment 
of  the  navy  at  sea.  The  revolutionary 
movements  in  the  Spanish  provinces, 
in  which  he  took  an  earnest  interest, 
engaged  much  of  his  attention.  The 
close  of  his  administration  was  marked 
by  the  progress  of  Lafayette  through 
the  country,  a  subject  to  which  he 
made  special  allusion  in  his  last  annual 
message.  "  A  more  interesting  specta 
cle,"  he  said,  with  some  reference  per 
haps  to  his  own  recollections,  "  it  is 
believed  was  never  witnessed,  because 
none  could  be  founded  on  pure;;  princi 
ples,  none  proceed  from  higher  or  more 
disinterested  motives.  That  the  feel 
ings  of  those  who  had  fought  and  bled 
with  him  in  a  common  cause  should 
have  been  much  excited  was  natural. 
But  the  circumstance  which  was  most 
sensibly  felt,  and  which  his  presence 
brought  to  the  mind  of  all,  was  the 

O  ' 

great  cause  in  which  we  were  engaged, 
and  the  blessings  which  we  have  de 
rived  from  our  success  in  it.  The 
struggle  was  for  independence  and 
liberty,  public  and  personal,  and  in 
this  we  succeeded."  President  Monroe* 
wa>  a  plain  writer,  not  at  all  given  to 
the  graces  of  rhetoric ;  had  he  been  at 


all  a  man  of  eloquence,  or  trained  in  its 
liberal  art,  he  could  hardly  have  failed 
to  impress  some  striking  images  of  his 
past  life  in  a  retrospect  of  his  memora 
ble  career.  But  this  was  not  the  na 
ture  or  talent  of  the  man.  In  the  sim 
plest  words,  h'e  takes  leave  of  the 
public;  but  to  those  who  were  ac 
quainted  with  his  life,  as  to  himself, 
they  were  pregnant  with  meaning.  "  0 
cannot  conclude  this  communication," 
ends  his  eighth  annual  message,  "  the 
last  of  the  kind  which  I  shall  have  to 
make,  without  recollecting,  with  great 
sensibility  and  heartfelt  gratitude,  the 
many  instances  of  public  confidence 
and  the  generous  support  which  I  have 
received  from  my  fellow  citizens  in  the 
various  trusts  with  which  I  have  been 
honored.  Having  commenced  my  ser 
vice  in  early  youth,  and  continued  it 
since  with  few  and  short  intervals,  I 
have  witnessed  the  great  difficulties  to 
which  our  Union  has  been  exposed, 
and  admired  the  virtue  and  courage 
with  which  they  were  surmounted." 
Mr.  Monroe  retired  from  Washing- 

O 

ton  to  a  temporary  residence  in  Loudon 
County,  where,  true  to  a  policy  of 
usefulness  which  had  governed  him 
through  life,  he  discharged  the  duties 
of  Justice  of  the  Peace.  He  was  also 
one  of  the  Board  of  Visitors  of  the 
University  of  Virginia,  a  body  of  nine 
appointed  by  the  Governor  every  fourth 
year,  who  with  the  Rector  have  the 
entire  direction  of  that  important  State 
institution.  He  was  also  chosen  Presi 
dent  of  the  Convention  which  sat  to 
revise  the  Constitution  of  Virginia,  in 
the  winter  of  1829-30 ;  but  ill  health, 
and  the  infirmities  of  advanced  life, 


80 


JAMES    MONROE. 


compelled  him  to  retire  from  his  seat 
before  the  adjournment  of  that  body.- 
The  death  of  his  wife  was  now  added 
to  his  affliction,  and  his  home  in  Vir 
ginia  being  thus  broken  up,  he  removed 
to  New  York  to  dwell  with  his  son-in- 
law,  Mr.  Samuel  L.  G<3uverneur.  His 
death  happened  shortly  after  in  this 
new  home,  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1831, 
"  the  flickering  lamp  of  life  holding  its 
lingering  flame  as  if  to  await  the  day 
of  the  nation's  birth  and  glory." l  He 
was  buried  with  public  honors  in  the 
MarBle  Cemetery,  in  Second  street, 
where  his  remains  reposed  till  the  sum 
mer  of  1858,  when  they  were  removed 
at  the  instance  of  the  State  of  Vir 
ginia  to  the  rural  cemetery  of  Holly 
wood,  on  the  banks  of  James  River, 
overlooking  the  city  of  Eichmond. 
They  again  received  public  honors  from 
New  York,  and  were  escorted  to  their 
final  resting-place  by  the  Seventh  Regi 
ment  of  New  York  State  troops,  gene 
rally  known  as  the  National  Guard. 
The  time  chosen  for  the  new  interment 
was  the  anniversary  of  his  death,  but 
as  that  day  fell  on  Sunday,  the  funeral 
celebration  at  Richmond  took  place  on 
the  fifth  of  July.  An  address  was  deliv 
ered  at  the  grave  by  Governor  Wise  of 
Virginia,  in  which,  after  enumerating 
the  events  of  the  long  and  honorable 
public  career  of  the  departed,  he  dwelt 
upon  the  circumstances  of  his  burial. 
"  Venerable  patriot !"  was  his  language, 
"he  found  his  rest  soon  after  he 
retired.  On  the  Fourth  of  July,  1831, 

1  John  Quincy  Adams. 


twenty-seven  years  ago,  he  departed, 
like  Jefferson  and  Adams,  on  the  anni 
versary  of  Independence.  His  spirit 
was  caught  up  to  heaven,  and  his  ashes 
were  enshrined  in  the  soil  of  his 
adopted  State,  whose  daughter  he  had 
married;  of  that  grand  and  prosperous 
Commonwealth  whose  motto  is  '  Excel 
sior,'  our  sister  New  York,  the  Empire 
State  of  the  United  States  of  America. 
Virginia  was  the  natural  mother  of 
Monroe,  and  New  York  was  his  mother- 
in-law  ;  Virginia  by  birth  and  baptism, 
New  York  by  marriage  and  burial. 
This  was  well,  for  he  gave  to  her  inva 
ders  the  glaived  hand  of  '  bloody  wel 
come*  at  Trenton,  aad  New  York  gave 
to  him  a  '  hospitable  grave.'  Virginia 
respectfully  allowed  his  ashes  to  lie 
long  enough  to  consecrate  her  sister's 
soil,  and  now  has  dutifully  taken  them 
to  be  '  earth  to  her  earth  and  ashes  to 
her  ashes,'  at  home  in  the  land  of  his 
cradle." 

'Tn  person  President  Monroe  was  tall 
and  we}l  formed,  of  light  complexion 
and  blue  eyes.  His  long  and  accepta 
ble  public  life  bears  witness  to  his 
personal  and  intellectual  qualities.  In 
the  words  of  the  sketch  of  the  late 
Senator  Benton  just  quoted,  "  his  parts 
were  not  shining  but  solid.  He  lacked 
genius,  but  he  possessed  judgment ;  and 
it  was  the  remark  of  Dean  Swift,  that 
genius  was  not  necessary  to  the  con 
ducting  of  the  affairs  of  State ;  that 
judgment,  diligence,  knowledge,  good 
intentions  and  will  were  sufficient. 
Mr.  Monroe  was  an  instance  of  the 
'soundness  of  this  remark." 


3,     2  . 


JOHN    QU1NCY    ADAMS. 


WE  have  already  traced  the  lineage 
of  Jolm  Quincy  Adams.  He  comes 
nobly  heralded  upon  the  scene  of  our 
Revolutionary  annals.  His  stirring  re 
lative,  the  zealous  and  always  consist 
ent  Samuel  Adams,  the  very  front  and 
seed-plot  of  obstinate  rebellion,  had 
taught  the  mechanics  of  Boston  to 
resist,  and  his  eloquence  had  reached 
the  ears  of  men  of  influence  throughout 
the  colony  and  nation.  His  father, 
John  Adams,  thirty-two  years  old  at 
the  time  of  his  birth,  deeply  grounded 
in  the  histoiy  of  constitutional  liberty 
and  with  the  generous  flame  of  freedom 
burning  brightly  in  his  bosom  from 
boyhood,  was  already  prepared  for  that 
warm,  enlightened,  steady  career  of 
patriotism  —  never  swerving,  always 
true  to  his  land — which  bore  him  aloft, 
the  chosen  representative  of  New  Eng 
land  to  the  Congress  of  his  country 
and  ultimately  to  her  highest  authority ; 
while  the  nation  in  turn  adopted  him 
her  express  image  in  the  important  ne 
gotiations  at  three  of  the  great  courts 
of  Europe. 

Nor  should  we  forget  the  tender, 
heroic  mother,  the  child  of  sensibility 
and  genius,  hardened  into  the  maturity 
and  perfection  of  the  female  character 
by  the  fire  of  the  Revolution,  the  gen 
tle  Abigail,  in  whose  fair  friendship 
11 


and  sympathies  and  feminine  graceful 
ness  posterity  has  an  ever-living  parti 
cipation  through  the  delightful  pages 
of  her  "  Correspondence." 

Of  that  family,  in  a  house  adjoining 
the  old  paternal  Braintree  home,  in  the 
present  town  of  Quincy,  at  this  immi 
nent  moment  of  the  Revolution,  John 
Quincy  Adams,  the  eldest  son,  was 
born  July  11,  1707.  He  derived  his 
baptismal  name  from  his  great-grand 
father,  John  Quincy,  the  time-honored 
representative  of  Quincy  in  the  Colo 
nial  Legislature.  The  name  was  given 
by  his  grandmother,  as  her  husband 
was  dying.  The  incident  was  not  for 
gotten  by  the  man.  He  recurred  to  it 
with  emotion,  fortified  by  a  sense  of 
duty.  In  a  sentence  cited  by  his  recent 
biographer,  the  venerable  Josiah  Quin- 
cy,  he  says :  "  This  fact,  recorded  by 
my  father  at  the  time,  is  not  without  a 
moral  to  my  heart,  and  has  connected 
with  that  portion  of  my  name  a  charm 
of  mingled  sensibility  and  devotion. 
It  was  filial  tenderness  that  gave  the 
name — it  was  the  name  of  one  passing 
from  earth  to  immortality.  These  have 
been  through  life,  perpetual  admoni 
tions  to  do  nothing  unworthy  of  it."  * 

It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  progress 
of  the  child  in  his  mother's  correspond 
ence,  from  the  infant  lullaby  which  sho 

81 


82 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


prattles  to  her  husband,  when  "  our 
daughter  rocks  him  to  sleep  with  the 
song,  '  Come,  papa,  come  home  to  bro 
ther  Johnny.'  The  boy  has  just  en 
tered  his  eighth  year,  and  his  father  is 
on  his  way  to  the  Continental  Congress 
at  Philadelphia,  when  she  writes :  "  I 
have  taken  a  very  great  fondness  for 
reading  Eollin's  'Ancient  History,' 
since  you  left  me.  I  am  determined  to 
go  through  with  it  if  possible,  in  these 
my  days  of  solitude.  I  find  great  plea 
sure  and  entertainment  from  it,  and  I 
have  persuaded  Johnny  to  read  me  a 
page  or  two  every  day,  and  hope  he 
will,  from  his  desire  to  oblige  me,  en 
tertain  a  fondness  for  it."  The  child 
had  some  instruction  at  the  village 
school,  but  he  was  especially  taught  by 
his  father's  law  students,  in  the.  house. 
As  the  pressure  of  war  increases,  this 
resource  is  broken  up.  The  anxious 
mother  writes,  "  I  feel  somewhat  lonely. 
Mr.  Thaxter  is  gone  home.  Mr.  Rice 
is  going  into  the  army  as  captain  of  a 
company.  We  have  no  school.  I 
know  not  what  to  do  with  John."  In 
the  summer  of  this  year,  1*7  7  5,  "  stand 
ing,"  we  are  told,  "  with  her  on  the 
summit  of  Penn's  Hill,  he  heard  the 
cannon  booming  from  the  battle  of 
Bunker's  Hill,  and  saw  the  flames  and 
smoke  of  burning  Charlestown.  Dur 
ing  the  siege  of  Boston  he  often  climbed 
the  same  eminence  alone,  to  watch  the 
shells  and  rockets  thrown  by  the  Ame 
rican  army."  l  A  letter  from  the  boy 
himself,  two  years  later,  then  at  the  age 
of  ten,  exhibits  his  youthful  precocity. 
"  I  love,"  he  writes  to  his  father,  "  to 


1  Quincy'e  Memoir,  p.  8. 


receive  letters  very  well — much  better 
than  I  love  to  write  them.  I  make  but 
a  poor  figure  at  composition  ;  my  head 
is  much  too  fickle.  My  thoughts  are 
running  after  birds'  eggs,  play  and  tri 
fles,  till  I  get  vexed  with  myself.  Mam 
ma  has  a  troublesome  task  to  keep  me 
steady,  and  I  own  I  am  ashamed  of 
myself.  I  have  but  just  entered  the 
third  volume  of  Smollett,  though  I  had 
designed  to  have  got  half  through  it 
by  this  time.  I  have  determined  this 
week  to  be  more  diligent,  as  Mr.  Thax 
ter  will  be  absent  at  court,  and  I-  can 
not  pursue  my  other  studies.  I  have 
set  myself  a  stint-,  and  determined  to 
read  the  third  volume  half  out."  He 
asks  for  directions  to  proportion  his 
time  between  play  and  writing,  and  in 
a  postscript  says,  "  Sir,  if  you  will  be 
so  good  as  to  favor  me  with  a  blank 
book,  I  will  transcribe  the  most  remark 
able  occurrences  I  meet  with  in  my 
reading,  which  will  serve  to  fix  them 
upon  my  mind."  1 

In  this  letter  we  may  read  the  aged 
man  backward,  from  his  steadfast, 
methodical  desk  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  to  the  little  boy  at 
his  mother's  side  in  Braintree.  The 
"childhood  shows  the  man  as  morn 
ing  shows  the  day."  He  was  an  old- 
fashioned,  studious  youth,  nurtured 
amidst  grave  scenes  of  duty,  early  in 
harness,  a  resolute  worker  from  his  cra 
dle  to  his  grave. 

The  next  year  the  boy  is  taken  with 
his  father,  on  board  the  frigate  Boston, 
on  his  first  mission  to  France  ;  followed, 
in  her  first  letter  after  the  separation, 

1  This  letter  appears  from  the  manuscript  in  Mr.  Ed 
ward  Everett's  eloquent  Faneuil  Hall  eulogy  on  Adams. 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


83 


by  this  noble  injunction  of  the  mother: 
" Enjoin  it  upon  him  never  to  disgrace 
his  mother,  and  to  behave  worthily  of 
his  father."  The  boy  is  a  little  man  on 
the  voyage,  securing  the  favor  of  the 
French  gentlemen  on  board,  who  teach 
him  their  language.  In  a  perilous 
storm  which  arose,  his  father  records 
his  inexpressible  satisfaction  at  his  be 
havior,  "  bearing  it  with  a  manly  pa 
tience,  very  attentive  to  me,  and  his 
thoughts  constantly  running  in  a  serious 
strain."  When  they  arrive  in  France, 
and  take  up  their  lodgings  with  Ben 
jamin  Franklin  at  Passy,  he  is  put  to 
school  with  the  sage's  grandson,  Benja 
min  Franklin  Bache,  in  the  neighbor 
hood.  At  the  close  of  this  short  sojourn 
abroad,  his  father  sums  up  his  advan 
tages  :  "  My  son  has  had  a  great  oppor 
tunity  to  see  this  country ;  but  this  has 
unavoidably  retarded  his  education  in 
some  other  things.  He  has  enjoyed 
perfect  health  from  first  to  last,  and  is 
respected  wherever  he  goes  for  his 
vigor  and  vivacity,  both  of  mind  and 
body,  for  his  constant  good  humor  and 
for  his  rapid  progress  in  French  as  well 
as  his  general  knowledge,  which,  for 
his  age,  is  uncommon."  l  On  the  return 
voyage,  in  the  Sensible,  the  Chevalier 
de  la  Luzerne,  the  minister  to  the  Unit 
ed  States,  and  his  secretary,  M.  Marbois, 
"  are  in  raptures  with  my  son.  They 
get  him  to  teach  them  the  language.  I 
found,  this  morning,  the  ambassador 
seated  on  the  cushion  in  our  state-room, 
M.  Marbois  in  his  cot,  at  his  left  hand, 
and  my  son  stretched  out  in  his,  at  his 
right ;  the  ambassador  reading  out 

1  Letters  of  John  Adams  to  his  wife,  IT.  64. 


loud  in  Blackstone's  Discourse  at  his  en 
trance  on  his  professorship  of  the  com 
mon  law  at  the  University,  and  my  son 
correcting  the  pronunciation  of  every 
word  and  syllable  and  letter."  * 

In  November,  father  and  son  are  at 
sea  again  in  the  Sensible,  on  their  re 
turn  to  France.  This  time  they  are 
landed  in  Gallicia,  and  pursue  their 
way  through  the  northern  provinces  of 
Spain  to  the  French  frontier.  When 
the  boy's  Diary  shall  be  published, 
that  gigantic  work  which  we  are  told 
he  commenced  on  this  second  voyage, 
and  continued,  with  few  interruptions, 
through  life,  the  world  will  doubtless 
get  some  picturesque  notices  of  these 
foreign  scenes,  so  happily  sketched  in 
his  father's  note-book.  The  boy  was 
again  at  school  in  France,  and  on  his 
father's  mission  to  Amsterdam,  in  the 
summer,  was  placed  with  an  instructor 
under  the  wing  of  the  venerable  uni 
versity  of  Leyden,  where  in  January, 
1781,  with  Franklin's  correspondent, 
Benjamin  Waterhouse,  then  a  student 
of  medicine,  he  went  before  the  Rector 
Magnificus  and  was  duly  matriculated. 
His  father's  object  in  taking  him  to 
Leyden  was  to  escape  "the  mean-spirit 
ed  wretches,"  as  he  describes  them,  the 
teachers  of  the  public  schools  at  Am 
sterdam. 

The  youth,  however,  was  not  long  at 
the  University.  His  father's  secretary, 
Francis  Dana,  having  received  the  ap 
pointment  of  minister  to  St.  Petersburg, 
in  July,  took  the  boy  of  fourteen  with 
him  as  his  secretary.  "In  this  capa 
city,"  says  Mr.  Everett,  "  he  was  recog- 

1  John   Adams'   Sea  Diary,   June    19,    1779.     Works, 
III.  214. 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


nized  by  Congress ;  and  there  is,  per 
haps,  no  other  case  of  a  person  so  young 
being  employed  in  a  civil  office  of  trust, 
under  the  government  of  the  United 
States.  But  in  Mr.  Adams'  career 
there  was  no  boyhood."  His  know 
ledge  of  French,  indeed,  appears  to 
have  been  of  real  service  in  interpret 
ing  between  his  chief  and  the  French 
minister,  the  Marquis  de  Yerac,  with 
whom  the  negotiations  were  conducted 
at  the  Russian  capital.  In  the  autumn 
of  the  succeeding  year  he  left  St.  Peters 
burg  for  a  winter  in  Stockholm,  and  in 
the  spring  travelled  alone  through 
Sweden,  Denmark  and  Germany  to  the 
Hague,  where  in  May,  17*73,  we  hear 
of  him  in  his  father's  correspondence, 
as  again  "  pursuing  his  studies  with 
great  ardor."  He  was  present  with  his 
father  at  the  concluding  peace  negotia 
tions  at  Paris,  where  he  witnessed  the 
signing  of  the  memorable  final  treaty. 
The  greater  part  of  the  next  two  years 
was  passed  in  London  and  Paris,  where 
he  had  now  the  society  of  his  mother. 
He  is  still  the  same  vigilant  student, 
while  he  assists  his  father  as  his  secre 
tary.  "  He  is  a  noble  fellow,"  writes 
John  Adams  from  Auteuil  to  Francis 
Dana  at  the  close  of  IT 84,  "  and  will 
make  a  good  Greek  or  Roman,  I  hope, 
for  he  spends  his  whole  time  in  their 
company,  when  he  is  not  writing  for 
me."1 

When  his  father  was  appointed  the 
first  minister  plenipotentiary  to  Eng 
land,  it  was  but  natural  to  suppose  that 
the  secretary  who  had  shared  his  hum 
bler  labors  would  have  desired  to  par 
ticipate  in  the  full-blown  honors  of  the 


1  John  Adams'  Works,  IX.  527. 


royal  court.  There  is  not  one  youth  in 
a  thousand  who  would  have  resisted 
the  temptation.  For  what  does  John 
Quincy  Adams,  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
after  his  responsible  duties  in  Russia, 
his  independent  sojourn  in  Stockholm, 
and  intercourse  with  the  brilliant  Ame 
rican  circles  in  Paris,  with  Franklin  at 
the  centre,  exchange  the  splendid  pro 
spect  of  life  in  the  British  metropolis  ? 
For  the  leading-strings  and  restraints 
of  Harvard,  and  a  toilsome  pupilage  at 
the  bar.  The  choice  between  inclina 
tion  and  duty  never  was  more  tempt 
ingly  presented.  His  own  expression 
of  the  resolve  is  too  memorable  to  be 
omitted.  "  I  have  been  seven  years 
travelling  in  Europe,"  he  writes,  "  see 
ing  the  world  and  in  its  society.  If  I 
return  to  the  United  States,  I  must  be 
subject,  one  or  two  years,  to  the  rules 
of  a  college,  pass  three  more  in  the 
tedious  study  of  the  law,  before  I  can 
hope  to  bring  myself  into  piofessional 
notice.  The  prospect  is  discouraging. 
If  I  accompany  my  father  to  London, 
my  satisfaction  would  probably  be 
greater  than  by  returning  to  the  United 
States  ;  but  I  shall  loiter  away  my  pre 
cious  time,  and  not  go  home  until  I  am 
forced  to  it.  My  father  has  been  all 
his  lifetime  occupied  by  the  interests 
of  the  public.  His  own  fortune  has 
suffered.  His  children  must  provide 
for  themselves.  I  am  determined  to 
get  my  own  living,  and  to  be  depend 
ent  upon  no  one.  With  a  tolerable 
share  of  common  sense,  I  hope  in  Ame 
rica  to  be  independent  and  free/  Ra 
ther  than  live  otherwise,  I  would  wish 
to  die  before  my  time." * 


Quiacy's  Memoir,  p.  6. 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


85 


With  this  creditable  resolve  he  bore 
with  him  from  his  father  a  letter  to 
Benjamin  Waterhouse,  touching  his  ex 
amination  at  Harvard.  The  solicitous 
parent,  who  had  read  some  of  the 
classics  with  his  son,  and  forsaking  the 
card-table,  attempted  even  an  introduc 
tion  to  the  higher  mathematics,  in 
which  he  failed,  candidly  admitting 
that  these  abstruse  studies  had  quite 
departed  from  him  in  thirty  years'  ut 
ter  unconsciousness  of  them,  is  anxious 
to  impress  upon  his  friend  those  gene 
ral  acquisitions  which  might  be  ob 
scured  at  an  examination  for  want  of 
some  of  the  technicalities  of  instruction. 
Thus,  while  he  had  steadily  pursued 
his  studies,  and  made  written  transla 
tions  of  the  JEneid,  Suetonius,  Sallust, 
Tacitus'  Agricola  and  Germany,  and 
portions  of  the  Annals,  with  a  good 
part  of  Horace,  he  might  be  defective 
in  quantities  and  parsing.  Harvard, 
however,  was  not  likely  to  be  too  inex 
orable  in  her  demands ;  nor  was  the 
pupil  likely  to  fall  short  of  them.  Af 
ter  a  few  mouths'  reading  with  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Shaw  of  Haverhill,  he  was 
admitted  to  the  junior  class  in  March, 
1786,  and  continuing  in  the  University 
long  enough  to  leave  a  fragrant  memo 
ry  of  his  scholarship  and  good  princi 
ples,  received,  his  degree  the  following 
year.  His  commencement  oration, 
which  was  published,  was  on  "  The  Im 
portance  and  Necessity  of  Public  Faith 
to  the  Well-being  of  a  Community." 

He  now  engaged  in  a  three  years' 
course  of  the  study  of  the  law,  with 
Theophilus  Parsons,  at  Newburyport, 
in  which  he  must  have  heard  much 
from  his  vigorous-minded  preceptor, 


who  afterwards  became  chief  justice  of 
the  State,  of  the  struggle  then  going  on 
for  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution. 
Adams  wras  admitted  to  the  bar  in 
1790,  and  at  once,  as  he  long  afterwards 
expressed  it,  "  commenced  what  I  can 
hardly  call  the  practice  of  the  law  in 
the  city  of  Boston."  For  the  first  three 
years  he  had  the  usual  opportunity  of 
young  lawyers  for  further  study ;  and 
unlike  many  of  them,  he  availed  him 
self  of  it.  A  portion  of  his  leisure  was 
spent  in  the  discussion  of  the  impor 
tant  political  questions  of  the  day.  He 
answered  the  plausible  sophistries  on 
government,  of  Paine' s  "  Rights  of  Man," 
in  a  series  of  essays  published  in  Rus 
sell's  "  Columbian  Centinel,"  signed 
Publicola ;  and  in  1793,  in  the  same 
journal,  urged  neutrality  upon  the 
countiy  in  the  contest  between  Eng 
land  and  France,  and  attacked  the  in 
solent  Genet  in  terms  of  wholesome 
indignation.  This  service,  and  doubt 
less  his  father's  great  successes  in  Hol 
land,  led  Washington's  administration 
to  appoint  him,  in  1794,  minister  to  the 
Netherlands.  His  acceptance  of  this 
honorable  position  was  at  the  cost  of  a 
rapidly  developing  legal  practice.  Ar 
riving  in  London  in  time  to  confer 
with  Jay,  whose  British  treaty  was 
then  getting  adjusted,  he  reached  Hol 
land  in  season  to  witness  the  occupa 
tion  of  the  country  by  the  French  pro 
pagandists.  He  remained  at  the  Hague, 
availing  himself  of  the  opportunities 
and  leisure  of  the  place  to  add  to  those 
stores  of  knowledge  already  consider 
able,  wrhich  he  had  accumulated,  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  months  passed 
in  diplomatic  business  in  England  till 


86 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


the  summer  of  IT 97,  when  lie  received 
the  appointment  of  minister  to  Portu 
gal.  On  his  father's  occupancy  of  the 
Presidency  this  was  changed  to  the 
mission  to  Berlin.  Before  proceeding 
to  his  new  post  he  passed  over  to  Eng 
land  to  claim  the  hand  of  a  lady  to 
whom  he  had  become  engaged  on  a 
former  visit,  Miss  Louisa  Catharine 
Johnson,  the  daughter  of  the  American 
consul  at  London. 

Adams  felt  at  first  a  natural  reluc 
tance  to  accept  an  important  office  at 
the  hands  of  his  father ;  but  his  inde 
pendence  was  reconciled  to  the  step 
when  he  learned  that  it  had  been  urged 
by  Washington  himself,  who  considered 
him  fully  entitled  by  his  previous  ser 
vices,  to  diplomatic  promotion.  He 
now  took  up  his  residence  at  Berlin. 
He  was  engaged  in  this  mission  to  the 
close  of  his  father's  administration. 
During  this  time  he  negotiated  a  treaty 
of  commerce  with  Prussia,  and  in  the 
summer  of  1800  made  a  considerable 
tour  in  Silesia.  A  number  of  letters' 
addressed  to  his  brother  in  America, 
descriptive  of  this  country,  were  pub 
lished  without  his  advice  in  the  "  Port 
Folio,"  and  a  few  years  after  were 
issued  in  a  volume  by  a  London  pub 
lisher.  In  this  collection  they  form  a 
methodically  written  work,  descriptive 
of  the  industry  and  resources  of  an  in 
teresting  country  with  a  comprehensive 
account  of  its  history  and  geography. 

Adams  also,  during  his  residence  at 
Berlin,  employed  himself  in  several 
literary  compositions,  of  which  the  most 
important  was  a  poetical  version  of 
Wieland's  "  Oberon."  He  intended 
this  for  publication,  but  found  that 


Sotheby,  the  English  translator,  had 
anticipated  him.  Several  satires  of 
Juvenal  were  also  among  his  transla 
tions.  He  moreover  prepared  for  pub- 
lication  in  America,  a  treatise  of  Frede 
rick  de  Gentz,  "  On  the  Origin  and 
Principles  of  the  American  Revolution," 
which  interested  him  by  its  apprecia 
tion  of  American  principles  of  liberty, 
as  contradistinguished  from  the  license 
of  the  French  Revolution. 

On  his  return  to  Boston,  he  turned 
his  attention  again  to  the  study  and  re 
sumed  the  practice  of  the  law.  He  was 
not,  however,  suffered  to  remain  long 
free  from  official  employment.  A  few 
months  after  his  arrival  he  was  called 
to  the  Senate  of  Massachusetts,  and 
almost  immediately  chosen  to  the  Sen 
ate  of  the  United  States.  It  was  at 
that  period  of  the  disintegration  of  the 
federal  party  when  the  old  order  of 
things  was  fast  going  out,  and  the  new 
was  not  fully  established.  Adams, 
who  was  always  inclined  to  think  for 
himself,  chose  an  independent  position. 
In  some  things,  as  the  constitutionality 
of  taking  possession  of  Louisiana,  in 
the  way  in  which  it  was  done,  he  op 
posed  the  administration  ;  in  voting  for 
the  appropriation  of  the  purchase  mo 
ney,  he  was  with  it.  When  the  promi 
nent  measures  of  Jefferson's  administra 
tion  in  reference  to  England  began  to 
take  shape  in  the  Embargo,  he  was  at 
variance  with  his  colleague,  Mr.  Pick 
ering.  He  was  of  opinion  that  submis 
sion  to  British  aggression  was  no 
longer  a  virtue.  His  course,  which  was 

o 

considered  a  renunciation  of  federalism, 
created  a  storm  in  Massachusetts,  where 
the  legislature,  in  anticipation  of  the 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


87 


ii-ual  period,  elected  a  successor  to  his 
senatorial  terra.  Upon  this  censure  he 
immediately  resigned. 

His  retirement  was  characteristic 
enough.  He  had  been  some  time  be 
fore,  in  1805,  chosen  professor  of  rhet 
oric  and  oratory  on  the  Boylston  foun 
dation  at  Harvard,  and  had  delivered 
his  Inaugural  the  following  year.  The 
preparation  of  these  lectures,  in  the  de 
livery  of  which  he  now  continued  to  be 
employed,  called  for  fresh  classical  stu 
dies  ;  but  to  study  he  was  never  averse, 
and  it  is  the  memorable  lesson  of  his 
career,  that  the  pursuits  of  literature 
are  not  only  the  ornament  of  political 
life,  but  the  best  safeguards  of  the  per 
sonal  dignity  of  the  politician,  when,  as 
must  sometimes  happen  with  an  inde 
pendent  man,  he  is  temporarily-  thrown 
out  of  office  by  party  distractions.  If 
he  is  then  found,  as  Adams  always  was, 
making  new  acquisitions  of  learning, 
and  preparing  anew  for  public  useful 
ness,  he  must  and  will  be  respected, 
whichever  way  the  popular  favor  of  the 
moment  may  blow.  Mr.  Adams  con 
tinued  his  duties  at  Harvard,  readin^ 

o 

lectures  and  presiding  over  the  exer 
cises  in  elocution  till  the  summer  of 
1809.  In  the  following  year,  his  "  Lec 
tures  on  Oratory,  delivered  to  the  Sen 
ior  and  Junior  Sophisters  in  Harvard 
University,"  were  published  at  Cam 
bridge.  Mr.  Edward  Everett,  who  was 
at  the  time  one  of  the  younger  students, 
bears  witness  to  the  interest  with 
which  these  discourses  were  received, 
not  merely  by  the  collegians  but  by 
various  voluntary  listeners  from  the 
neighborhood.  "They  formed,"  he 
.  "an  era  in  the  University,  and 


were,"  he  thinks,  "  the  first  successful 
attempt  in  the  country  at  this  form  of 
instruction  in  any  department  of  litera 
ture." 

Immediately  upon  the  entrance  of 
Madison  upon  the  Presidency,  Adams 
received  the  appointment  of  minister 
to  Russia,  the  court  which  he  had  ap 
proached,  in  his  boyish  secretaryship, 
during  the  Revolution,  with  Dana.  He 
sailed  from  Boston  early  in  August, 
1809,  in  a  merchant  ship,  for  St.  Peters 
burg  ;  but  from  various  detentions,  a 
rough  passage,  and  the  vexatious  exam 
inations  of  the  British  cruisers  in  the 
Baltic,  then  blockading  Denmark,  he 
did  not  arrive  in  Russia  till  October. 
The  commercial  embarrassments,  in  the 
complicated  relations  of  the  great  Na 
poleonic  wars  of  the  time,  witnessed 
on  the  voyage,  in  the  detention  and 
oppression  of  American  ships,  furnished 
his  chief  diplomatic  business  at  the 
imperial  court.  As  much  as  any  man, 
perhaps,  he  aided  in  solving  these 
international  difficulties.  He  had  a 
cordial  reception  at  court  on  his  first 
arrival,  and  as  time  wore  on,  having 
prepared  the  way  by  his  interviews 
with  Count  Romanzoff,  the  chancellor 
of  the  empire,  received  a  proffer  of 
mediation  from  the  Emperor  Alexan 
der,  between  Great  Britain  and  the 
United  States,  in  the  war  which  had 
now  broken  out.  The  offer  was  ac 
cepted  at  home,  and  in  the  summer  of 
1813,  he  was  joined  at  St.  Petersburg 
by  his  fellow  commissioners,  Bayard 
and  Gallatin,  appointed  for  the  negotia 
tion.  The  mediation  was  not,  however, 
accepted  by  Great  Britain,  though  it 
proved  a  step  forward  to  the  final  con- 


88 


JOHN    QTJINCY    ADAMS. 


ferences  and  adjustment  at  Ghent. 
England  proposed  to  treat  directly  at 
Gottenburg  or  London.  The  American 
government  chose  the  former,  and 
Adams  was  placed  on  the  commission 
with  Bayard,  Clay,  Russell  and  Galla- 
tin,  to  negotiate.  Before  his  arrival  on 
the  spot,  he  learnt  that  the  conference 
was  appointed  at  Ghent,  whither  he 
proceeded  in  the  summer  of  1814;  and, 
after  a  protracted  round  of  diplomacy, 
had  the  satisfaction  of  signing  the 
Treaty  of  Peace  the  day  before  Christ 
mas  of  that  year.  The  scene  of  this 
event  in  that  region  which  had  wit 
nessed  his  father's  successes,  and  his 
early  entrance  upon  the  world,  and 
above  all,  the  event  itself  closing  the 
gates  of  war,  as  his  father  again  had 
signed  the  great  pacification  of  1*783, 
must  have  been  peculiarly  gratifying, 
not  merely  to  his  patriotic  pride,  but 
to  the  love  of  method  which  character 
ized  his  life.  He  may  readily  have 
recognized  in  it  that  courteous  fate 
which  so  often  marked  the  career  of 
his  family.  If  there  is  a  political  as 
well  as  a  poetical  justice,  it  was  cer 
tainly  exhibited  in  the  history  of  John 
Quincy  Adams,  and  his  illustrious 
father.  The  coincidences  are  most 
striking. 

Adams  having  now  closed  his  mis 
sion  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  having  been 
appointed  minister  to  Great  Britain, 
was  joined  by  his  family  from  Russia, 
in  Paris,  where  he  witnessed  the  return 
of  Napoleon  from  Elba,  and  the  com 
mencement  of  the  Hundred  Days.  It 
was  one  of  those  dramatic  surprises  of 
Parisian  life,  which  we  may  expect  to 
be  faithfully  represented  in  Mr.  Adams' 


Diary,  when  it  shall  be  given  to  the 
world.  "We  get,  perhaps,  a  glimpse  of 
his  record  in  his  biographer,  Mr.  Quin- 
cy's  narrative.  Napoleon,  we  are  told, 
"  alighted  so  silently,  that  Mr.  Adams, 
who  was  at  the  Theatre  Fran£ais,  not 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  was  una 
ware  of  the  fact  till  the  next  day,  when 
the  gazettes  of  Paris,  which  had  show 
ered  execrations  upon  him,  announced 
'  the  arrival  of  his  majesty,  the  empe 
ror,  at  Tiia  palace  of  the  Tuileries.'  In 
the  Place  du  Carousel,  Mr.  Adams,  in 
his  morning  walk,  saw  regiments  of 
cavalry  belonging  to  the  garrison  of 
Paris,  which  had  been  sent  out  to 
oppose  Napoleon,  pass  in  review  before 
him,  their  helmets  and  the  clasps  of 
their  belts  yet  glowing  with  the  arms 
of  the  Bourbons.  The  theatres  assumed 
the  title  of  Imperial,  and  at  the  opera 
in  the  evening,  the  arms  of  the  Empe 
ror  were  placed  on  the  curtain,  and  on 
the  royal  box." 

Adams,  again  respecting  his  father's 
precedents,  took  up  his  residence  with 
his  family  in  London.  He  was  the 
American  representative  at  the  court 
of  St.  James  for  two  years,  when  he 
was  called  by  President  Monroe  to  his 
cabinet  as  Secretory  of  State.  His 
time  in  England  was  passed  in  the  best 
society  of  books,  things  and  men. 
After  concluding  the  '  commercial  rela 
tions  of  the  treaty,  he  removed  from 
London  to  a  retired  residence,  at  Bos 
ton  House,  Ealing,  nine  miles  distant, 
where  he  found  time — he  could  always 
make  time — for  his  liberal  studies. 

The  year  1817  saw  him  again  in 
America,  at  Washington,  the  leading 
member  of  the  new  administration,  in 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


89 


the  direct  line  of  promotion  to  the 
Presidency.  Old  party  lines  were  be 
coming,  or  had  already  become  extinct. 
It  was  a  period  of  fusion,  "an  era  of 
good  feeling,"  as  it  came  to  be  called 
on  the  quiet  reelection  of  Monroe. 
The  chief  diplomatic  measures  of 
Adams'  secretaryship,  had  reference  to 
Spain.  He  was  always  spirited  in  his 
assertions  of  the  foreign  policy  of  the 
country,  and  on  this  occasion  was 
greatly  instrumental  in  the  negotiations 
which  ended  in  the  cession  of  Florida. 
One  of  his  special  services  was  the  pre 
paration  of  an  elaborate  Report  on 
Weights  and  Measures,  at  the  call  of 
Congress.  He  devoted  six  months  of 
continuous  labor  to  this  production, 
entering  into  the  subject  philosophi 
cally,  and  in  its  historical  and  practical 
relations.  The  report  was  made  to 
Congress  in  February,  1821. 

Adams  continued  to  hold  his  secre 
taryship  through  both  terms  of  Mon 
roe's  administration.  At  its  close,  he 
was  chosen  by  the  House  of  Represen 
tatives  his  successor  in  the  Presidency, 
the  vote  being  divided  between  Jack 
son,  himself,  Crawford  and  Clay,  who 
decided  the  choice  by  throwing  the 
vote  of  Kentucky*  in  his  favor.  His 
administration,  says  Mr.  Everett,  in  the 
address  already  cited,  "was,  in  its  prin 
ciples  and  policy,  a  continuation  of 
Mr.  Monroe's.  The  special  object  which 
he  proposed  to  himself  was  to  bind  the 
distant  parts  of  the  country  together, 
and  promote  their  mutual  prosperity 
1'V  increased  facilities  of  communica 
tion."  There  were  manv  elements  of 

m 

opposition  at  work  against  a  reelection, 
in  the  complicated  struggles  of  the 

12 


times.  Adams  encountered  a  full  mea 
sure  of  unpopularity  and  retired — in 
political  disaster,  as  well  as  in  dipl<»- 
matic  triumph,  like  his  father — to  the 
shades  of  Quincy — that  long  retire 
ment  which  had  only  recently  ended  in 
death.  The  departure  from  the  world 
of  the  elder  Adams,  occurred  in  the 
second  year  of  his  son's  Presidency. 

Unlike  the  father,  however,  he  was 
not  to  sit  brooding  over  the  pa^t. 
Work,  persistent  work,  was  the  secret 
of  John  Quincy  Adams'  life.  Of  a 
tough  mental  fibre,  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  defeat,  while  he  had  a  mind 
to  contrive,  a  tongue  to  utter,  or  a  hand 
to  hold  the  pen.  He  was  sixty-two  at 
his  retirement  from  the  Presidency, 
within  a  few  years  of  the  age  when  his 
father  was  succeeded  by  Jefferson. 
Both  felt  the  storm  of  unprecedented 
party  spirit  and  annoyance,  and  both 
yielded  to  great  popular  heroes. 

Literature  again  offered  her  hand  to 
her  assiduous  son.  "  His  active,  ener 
getic  spirit,"  we  are  told,  "  required 
neither  indulgence  nor  rest,  and  he 
immediately  directed  his  attention  to 
those  philosophical,  literary  and  reli 
gious  researches,  in  which  he  took  un 
ceasing  delight.  The  works  of  Cicero 
became  the  object  of  study,  analysis 
and  criticism.  Commentaries  on  that 
master-mind  of  antiquity  were  among 
his  daily  labors.  The  translation  of 
the  Psalms  of  David  into  Enirli>h  verse- 
was  a  frequent  exercise ;  and  his  study 
of  the  Scriptures  was  accompanied  by 
critical  remarks,  pursued  in  the  spirit 
of  free  inquiry,  chastened  by  a  solemn 
reference  to  their  origin  and  influence 
on  the  conduct  and  hopes  of  human 


90 


JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 


life.  His  favorite  science,  astronomy, 
led  to  the  frequent  observation  of  the 
planets  and  stars;  and  his  attention 
was  also  called  to  agriculture  and  hor 
ticulture.  He  collected  and  planted 
the  seeds  of  forest  trees,  and  kept  a 
record  of  their  development;  and,  in 
the  summer  season,  labored  two  or 
three  hours  daily  in  his  garden.  With 
these  pursuits  were  combined  sketches 
preparatory  to  a  full  biography  of  his 
father,  which  he  then  contemplated  as 
one  of  his  chief  future  employments."1 
He  was,  however,  again  soon  called 
into  action,  being  elected,  in  November, 
1830,  by  his  district,  to  the  House  of 
Representatives.  It  was  a  novel  spec 
tacle — an  ex-president  of  the  United 
States  sitting  in  the  lower  house,  but 
it  was  fully  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  our  institutions,  which  honor 
all  faithful  servants  of  the  public. 
Nor  is  it  to  be  denied  that  at  least 
equal  talent  may  be  called  for,  and 
equal  influence  exerted  in  the  discharge 
of  duties  of  public  life,  which  to  the 
eye  of  the  world  have  a  comparative 
inferiority  of  position.  Power  may  be 
wielded  by  a  representative  which  may 
govern  the  administration  itself.  There 
are  many  acts,  of  our  legislative  bodies 
more  potential  than  the  simple  acquies 
cence  of  the  Executive ;  as  the  origina 
tor  of  a  measure  or  line  of  policy  must 
be  of  more  consequence  than  the  instru 
ment  which  gives  it  effect.  For  more 
than  sixteen  years  Adams  labored  at 
his  seat  in  the  House.  He  was-  the 
most  punctual  man  of  the  assembly, 
always  on  the  alert ;  cool,  resolute,  even 


1  Josiah  Quincy's  Biography,  p.  175-6. 


pugnacious.  There  was  scarcely  a  ques 
tion,  involving  a  point  of  morality,  of 
national  honor,  or  of  literary  and  philo 
sophical  culture,  on  which  his  voice 
was  not  heard.  He  supported  the  de 
mands  of  Jackson  upon  France;  he 
asserted  and  successfully  maintained  the 
right  of  petition  against  vast  obloquy 
and  opposition;  he  was  especially  in 
strumental  in  the  establishment  of  the 
National  Observatory,  and  the  Smithso 
nian  Institution.  A  bare  enumeration 
of  his  speeches,  writings  and  addresses, 
would  fill  the  space  assigned  to  this 
sketch — lectures  and  addresses  on 
points  of  law,  government,  history, 
biography  and  science,  moral  and 
social,  local  and  national,  before  sena 
tors  and  before  youths,  on  anniversa 
ries  of  towns,  on  eras  of  the  State, 
eulogies  on  the  illustrious  dead,  on 
Madison,  Monroe,  Lafayette,  the  oration 
at  the  Jubilee  of  the  Constitution. 

As  he  had  lived,  so  he  died  in  har 
ness.  Death  found  him  where  he  could 
have  wished  its  approach,  in  the  halls 
of  Congress.  His  robust  powers  of 
body  and  mind  had  held  out  surpris 
ingly,  as  his  vigor,  no  less  than  his 
venerable  appearance  in  the  House, 
enforced  an  authority  not  always  read 
ily  conceded  to  the  persistence  in 
unpopular  appeals  of  "the  old  man 
eloquent."  He  was  approaching  eighty : 
still  in  the  exercise  of  his  extraordinary 
faculties,  when,  in  a  recess  of  Congress, 
walking  in  the  streets  of  Boston,  in 
November,  1846,  he  was  stricken  by 
paralysis,  from  which,  nevertheless,  he 
recovered  in  time  to  take  his  seat  in 
Congress  early  in  the  year.  The  House 
rose  to  greet  him,  and  he  was  conducted 


JOHN    QUINCY  .ADAMS. 


91 


to  liis  chair  with  marked  honors.  lie 
felt,  however,  his  approach  to  the 
grave.  There  is  a  most  touching  evi 
dence  of  this  in  the  anecdote  related 
by  Mr.  Everett.  His  journal,  the  diaiy 
of  his  long  life,  interrupted  the  day  of 
his  attack,  was  resumed  after  an  inter 
val  of  nearly  four  months,  with  the 
title,  "  Posthumous  Memoir."  Writing 
in  its  now  darkened  pages,  he  says  of 
the  day  when  it  was  interrupted, 
"From  that  hour  I  date  my  decease, 
and  consider  myself,  for  every  useful 
purpose  to  myself  and  fellow  creatures, 
dead ;  and  hence  I  call  this,  and  what 
I  may  hereafter  write,  a  posthumous 
memoir." 

He  continued  in  the  House  another 
year,  when  the  final  messenger  came, 
on  Monday  morning,  the  twenty-first 
of  February,  1848.  After  passing  a 
Sunday  in  harmony  with  his  elevated 
religious  life,  he  was  observed  to  ascend 
the  steps  of  the  Capitol  with  his  accus 
tomed  alacrity.  As  he  rose,  with  a 
paper  in  his  hand,  to  address  the 
Speaker  in  the  House,  he  was  seized 
by  a  return  of  paralysis,  and  fell, 
uttering,  "this  is  the  last  of  earth— 
I  am  content."  He  was  taken,  as 
the  House  adjourned,  to  an  adja 
cent  room,  where  he  lingered  over 
Washington's  birthday  till  the  twenty- 


third,  when  he  died  in  the  speak. T'S 
apartment,  under  the  roof  of  the  Cap 
itol.  His  remains  were  taken  to  Bos 
ton,  reposed  in  state  in  old  Faneuil 
Hall,  and  were  quietly  laid  by  the 
side  of  his  parents,  in  a  grave  at 
Quincy. 

The  lesson  of  such  a  life  is  plain. 
Labor,  conscientiousness,  religious  duty; 
talent  borne  out  to  its  utmost  stretch 
of  performance  by  the  industrious  im 
provement  of  every  opportunity;  the 
self-rewarding  pursuits  of  letters  and 
science,  in  the  gratification  of  an  insa 
tiable  desire  for  knowledge ;  a  constant 
invigoration  of  the  moral  powers  by 
the  strenuous  discharge  of  duty ;  inde 
pendence  bought  by  self-denial  and 
prudence,  enjoying  its  wealth  —  the 
calm  temper,  the  untroubled  life — in 
the  very  means  of  acquiring  it.  How 
noble  an  illustration  of  the  powers  of 
life !  When  the  correspondence  and  Di 
ary,  which  Adams  maintained  through 
his  long  life,  shall  be  published— when 
his  writings  shall  be  collected  from  the 
stray  sheets  in  which  they  have  been 
given  to  the  winds,  when  the  literary 
aids,  due  to  his  memory,  shall  be 
gathered  in  the  library  about  his  fair 
fame,  there  will  be  seen  an  enduring 
monument  of  a  most  honorable  life  of 
public  service  and  mental  activity. 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


FEW  of  the  eminent  men  of  America, 
whose  acts  are  recorded  in  these  pages, 
entered  upon  the  public  stage  so  early 
and  continued  on  it  so  late,  as  the  sub 
ject  of  this  sketch.  To  no  one  but  him 
self  was  it  reserved  to  bridge  over  so 
completely  the  era  of  the  Revolution 
with  the  latest  phase  of  political  life  in 
our  day.  The  youth  who  had  suffered 
wounds  and  imprisonment  at  the  hands 
of  a  British  officer  in  the  war  of  Inde 
pendence,  was  destined  long  after,  when 
a  whole  generation  had  left  the  stage, 
to  close  a  second  war  with  that  power 
ful  nation  by  a  triumphant  victory; 
and  when  the  fresh  memory  of  that 
had  passed  away,  and  men  were  read 
ing  the  record  in  history,  the  same  hero, 
raised  to  the  highest  honor  of  the  State, 
was  to  stand  forth,  not  simply  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States,  but  the  ac 
tive  representative  of  a  new  order  of 
politics,  reaping  a  new  harvest  of  favor 
in  civil  administration,  which  would 
throw  his  military  glory  into  the  shade. 
Nor  was  this  all.  These  comprehen 
sive  associations,  much  as  they  include, 
leave  put  of  view  an  entirely  distinct 
phase  of  the  wonderful  career  of  this 
extraordinary  man.  A  rude  pioneer 
of  the  wilderness,  he  opened  the  path 
way  of  civilization  to  his  countrymen, 
and  by  his  valor  in  a  series  of  bloody 


Indian  wars,  made  the  terrors  of  that 
formidable  race  a  matter  of  tradition 
in  lands  which  he  lived  to  see  bloom 
ing  with  culture  and  refinement.  A 
hero  in  his  boyhood,  when  Greene  was 
leading  his  southern  army  to  the  relief 
of  the  Carolinas,  he  was  in  Congress  the 
first  representative  of  a  new  State,  when 
Washington  was  President;  and  when 
the  successors  of  that  chieftain,  Adams 
and  Jefferson,  had  at  length  disappeared 
from  the  earthly  scene  in  extreme  old 
age,  he,  a  man  more  of  the  future  than 
the  past,  sat  in  the  same  great  seat  of 
authority,  with  an  influence  not  inferior 
to  theirs.  Surrounded  by  these  circum 
stances,  in  the  rapid  development  of 
national  life,  in  the  infancy  and  prog 
ress  of  the  country,  if  he  had  been  a 
common  man  he  would  have  acquired 
distinction  from  his  position;  but  it 
was  his  character  to  form  circumstances 
as  well  as  profit  by  them.  There  are 
few  cases  in  all  history  where,  under 
adverse  conditions,  the  man  was  so 
master  of  fortune.  The  simplest  recital 
of  his  life  carries  with  it  an  air  almost 
of  romance;  his  success  mocked  the 
wisdom  of  his  contemporaries,  and  will 
tax  the  best  powers  of  the  future  histo 
rians  of  America  in  its  analysis. 

Andrew  Jackson  was  of  Irish  parent- 
ag3.     His  father,  of  the  same  name,  be- 

92 


I 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


93 


to  a  Protestant  family  in  humble 
lif«',  which  had  been  long  settled  at 
CarrickfergUB,  in  the  north  of  Ireland, 
whence  he  brought  his  wife  and  two 

O 

children  to  America,  in  1765.  They 
were  landed  at  Charleston,  South  Caro 
lina,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  the  up 
per  region  of  the  country,  on  the  Ca- 
tawba,  known  as  the  Waxhaw  settle 
ment.  They  came  as  poor  emigrants 
to  share  the  labors  of  their  friends  and 
countrymen  who  were  settled  in  the 
district.  Andrew  Jackson,  the  elder, 
began  his  toilsome  work  in  clearing  the 
land  on  his  plot  at  Twelve  Mile  Creek, 
a  branch  of  the  Catawba,  in  what  is 
now  known  as  Union  County,  North 
Carolina,  but  had  barely  established 
himself  by  two  years'  labor  when  he 
died,  leaving  his  widow  to  seek  a  re 
fuge  with  her  brother-in-law  in  the 

O 

neighborhood.  A  few  days  after  her 
husband's  death,  on  the  15th  March, 
1767,  she  brought  forth  a  third  son, 
Andrew,  of  whose  life  we  are  to  give 
an  account.  The  father  having  left 
little,  if  any,  means  of  support  for  his 
family,  the  mother  found  a  permanent 
home  with  another  brother-in-law  named 
Crawford,  who  resided  on  a  farm  just 
over  the  border  in  South  Carolina. 
There  the  boyhood  of  Jackson  was 
passed  in  the  pursuits  incident  to  youth, 
in  frontier  agricultural  life.  His  phy 
sical  powers  were  developed  by  healthy 
sports  and  exercise,  and  his  mind  re 
ceived  some  culture  in  the  humble  ru 
diments  of  education  in  the  limited 
schooling  of  the  region.  It  is  probable 
that  something  better  was  intended  for 
him  than  for  most  of  the  boys  in  his 
position,  since  we  hear  of  his  being  at 


an  Academy  at  Charlotte,  and  of  his 
mother's  design  to  prepare  him  for  the 
calling  of  a  Presbyterian  clergyman. 
Such,  indeed,  might  well  have  been  his 
prospects,  for  he  had  a  nature  capable 
of  the  service,  had  not  the  war  of  the 
Revolution,  now  breaking  out  afresh 
in  the  South,  carried  him  in  quite  a 
different  direction. 

In  1779  came  the  invasion  of  South 
Carolina,  the  ruthless  expedition  of  Pre- 
vost  along  the  seaboard  preceding  the 
arrival  of  Clinton,  and  the  fall  of  Charles 
ton.  The  latter  event  occurred  in  May 
of  the  following  year,  and  Corn  wall  is 
was  free  to  cany  out  his  plan  for  the 
subjugation  of  the  country.  Sending 
Tarleton  before  him,  the  very  month 
of  the  surrender  of  the  city,  the  war  of 
devastation  was  earned  to  the  border 
of  the  State,  to  the  very  home  of  Jack 
son.  The  action  at  the  Waxhaws  was 
one  of  the  bloodiest  in  a  series  of  bloody 
campaigns,  which  ended  only  with  the 
final  termination  of  hostilities.  It  was 
a  massacre  rather  than  a  battle,  as  Ame 
rican  blood  was  poured  forth  like 
water.  The  mangled  bodies  of  the 
wounded  were  brought  into  the  church 
of  the  settlement,  whore  the  mother  of 
the  young  Jackson,  then  a  boy  of  thir 
teen,  with  himself  and  brother — he  had 
but  one  now,  Hugh  having  already 
joined  the  patriots  and  fallen  in  the 
affair  at  Stono — attended  the  sick  and 
dying.  That  "  gory  bed  "  of  war,  con 
secrated  by  the  spot  where  his  father 
had  worshi ])])ed,  and  near  which  he  re 
posed  in  lasting  sleep,  summoned  the 
boy  to  his  baptism  of  blood.  lie  was 
not  the  one  to  shrink  from  the  encoun 
ter.  We  accordingly  find  him  on  hand 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


at  Sumtcr's  attack,  in  the  following 
August,  on  the  enemy's  post  at  Hang 
ing  Rock,  accompanying  Major  Davies' 
North  Carolina  troop  to  the  fight, 
though  he  does  not  appear  to  have  en 
gaged  in  the  battle.  A  few  days  after, 

O     O  •/  t 

Gates  was  defeated  at  Camden,  and 
Mrs.  Jackson  and  her  children  fled  be 
fore  the  storm  of  war  to  a  refuge  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  district.  The  es 
cape  was  but  temporary,  for,  on  her  re 
turn  in  the  spring,  her  boys  Were 
entangled,  as  they  could  not  well  fail 
to  be  in  that  region,  in  the  desultory, 
seldom  long  intermitted  partisan  war 
fare  which  afflicted  the  Carolinas.  In 
the  preparation  for  one  of  the  frequent 
skirmishes  between  Whig  and  Tory, 
the  two  brothers  were  surprised,  es 
caped  in  flight,  were  betrayed  and- cap 
tured.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  the 
scene,  often  narrated,  occurred,  of  the 
indignity  offered  by  the  British  officer, 
met  by  the  spirited  resistance  of  the 
youth.  Andrew  was  ordered  by  the 
officer,  in  no  gentle  tone,  to  clean  his 
boots.  He  refused  peremptorily,  plead 
ing  his  rights  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  an 
argument  which  brought  down  a  re 
joinder  in  a  sword-thrust  on  head  and 
arm  raised  for  protection,  the  marks  of 
which  the  old  hero  bore  to  his  last  day. 
A  similar  wound,  at  the  same  time,  for 
a  like  offence,  was  the  cause  of  his  bro 
ther's  death.  Their  imprisonment  at 
Camden  was  most  cruel ;  severely 
wounded,  without  medicine  or  care, 
with  but  little  food,  exposed  to  conta 
gion,  they  were  brought  forth  by  their 
mother,  who  followed  them  and  man 
aged  their  exchange.  Few  scenes  of 
war  can  be  fancied,  more  truly  heroic 


and  pitiful  than  the  picture  presented 
by  Mr.  Parton,  in  his  faithful  biogra 
phy  of  this  earnest,  afflicted,  patriotic 
mother  receiving  her  boys  from  the 
dungeon,  "  astonished  and  horrified  "  at 
their  worn,  wasted  appearance.  The 
elder  was  so  ill  as  not  to  be  able  to  sit 
on  horseback  without  help,  and  there 
was  no  place  for  them  in  those  troubled 
times  but  their  distant  home.  It  was 
forty  miles  away.  Two  horses,  with 
difficulty  we  may  suppose,  were  pro 
cured.  "  One  she  rode  herself.  Robert 
was  placed  on  the  other,  and  held  in 
his  seat  by  the  returning  prisoners,  to 
whom  his  devoted  mother  had  just 
given  liberty.  Behind  the  sad  proces 
sion,  poor  Andrew  dragged  his  weak 
and  weary  limbs,  bareheaded,  barefoot 
ed,  without  a  jacket."  Before  the  long 
journey  was  thus  painfully  accom 
plished,  "  a  chilly,  drenching,  merciless 
rain  "  set  in,  to  add  to  its  hardships. 
Two  days  after,  Robert  died,  and  An 
drew  was,  happily,  perhaps,  insensible 
to  the  event  in  the  delirium  of  the 
small  pox,  which  he  had  contracted  in 
prison.  What  will  not  woman  under 
take  of  heroic  charity  ?  This  mother 
of  Andrew  Jackson  had  no  sooner  seen 
her  surviving  boy  recovered  by  her 
care,  than  she  set  off  with  two  other  ma 
trons,  on  foot,  traversing  the  long  dis 
tance  to  Charleston  to  carry  aid  and 
consolation  to  her  nephews  and  friends 
immured  in  the  deadly  prison-ships  in 
the  harbor.  She  accomplished  her  er 
rand,  but  died  almost  in  its  execution, 
falling  ill  of  the  ship  fever  at  the  house 
of  a  relative  in  the  vicinity  of  the  city. 
Thus  sank  into  her  martyr's  grave,  this 
woman,  worthy  to  be  the  mother  of  a 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


95 


,  Iciivinir  her  son  Andrew,  "before 

» 

reaching  his  fifteenth  birth-day,  an  or 
phan;  a  sick  and  sorrowful  orphan, 
a  homeless  and  dependent  orphan,  an 
orphan  of  the  Revolution." l 

The  youth  remained  with  one  of  the 
Crawfords  till  a  quarrel  with  an  Ame 
rican  commissary  in  the  house — this 
lad  of  spirit  would  take  indignity  nei 
ther  from  friend  nor  foe — drove  him  to 
another  relative,  whose  son  being  in 
tin-  saddler's  trade,  led  him  to  some 
six  months'  en^a^ement  in  this  mecha- 

O     O 

nical  pursuit.  This  was  followed  by  a 
somewhat  eager  enlistment  in  the  wild 
youthful  sports  or  dissipations  of  the  day, 
siu-h  as  cockfighting,  racing  and  gamb 
ling,  which  inisjht  have  wrecked  a  less  re- 

O*  O 

s<  ilute  victim;  but  his  strength  to  get  out 
of  this  dangerous  current  was  happily 
superior  to  the  force  which  impelled 
lii in  into  it,  and  he  escaped.  He  even 
took  to  study  and  became  a  schoolmas 
ter,  not  over  competent  in  some  re 
spects,  but  fully  capable  of  imparting 
what  he  had  learnt  in  the  rude  old 
field  schools  of  the  time.  We  doubt 
not  he  put  energy  into  the  vocables, 
as  the  row  of  urchins  stood  before  him, 
and  energy,  like  the  orator's  action,  is 
more  than  books  to  a  schoolmaster. 

A  year  or  two  spent  in  this  way, 
not  without  some  pecuniary  profit, 
put  him  on  the  track  of  the  law,  for 
which  there  is  always  an  opening  in 
the  business  arising  from  the  unsettled 
land  titles  of  a  new  country,  to  say  no- 


1  Farton's  Life  of  Jackson,  I.  95.  We  may  here  make 
a  general  acknowledgment  for  the  aid  we  have  received 
in  this  sketch  from  Mr.  Parton's  exhaustive  narrative. 
He  has  far  exceeded  all  previous  biographers  in  the  dili 
gence  of  hia  investigations,  and  those  who  write  after 
Uim  of  Jackson  must  needs  follow  in  his  steps. 


thing  of  those  personal  strifes  and  tra 
ditions  which  follow  man  wherever  he 
goes.  The  youth — he  was  yet  hardly 
eighteen — accordingly  offered  himself 
to  the  most  eminent  counsel  in  the  re 
gion — that  is,  within  a  hundred  miles 
or  so — alighting  at  the  law  ofiice  of  Mr. 
Spence  McCay,  a  man  of  note  at  Salis 
bury,  North  Carolina,  There  he  passed 
1785  and  the  following  year,  studying 
probably  more  than  he  has  had  credit 
for,  his  reputation  as  a  gay  young  fel 
low  of  the  town  being  better  remem 
bered,  as  is  natural,  than  his  ordinary 
office  routine.  He  had  also  the  legal 
instructions  of  an  old  warrior  of  the 
Revolution,  brave  Colonel  Stokes,  a 
good  lawyer  and  mixture  of  the  soldier 
and  civilian,  who  must  have  been  quite 
to  Andrew  Jackson's  taste.  Thus  for 
tified,  with  the  moderate  amount  of 
learning  due  his  profession  in  those 
days,  he  was  licensed  and  began  the 
practice  of  the  law. 

His  biographer,  Mr.  Parton,  pleased 
with  having  brought  him  thus  far 
successfully  on  the  stage  of  life,  stops 
to  contemplate  his  subject  at  .full 
length.  His  points  may  be  thus 
summed  up :  "A  tall  fellow,  six  feet 
and  an  inch  in  his  stockings ;  slender, 
but  graceful  ;  far  from  handsome, 
with  a  long,  thin,  fair  face,  a  high 
and  naiTOW  forehead,  abundant,  red 
dish-sandy  hair,  falling  low  over  it — 
hair  not  yet  elevated  to  the  bristling 
aspect  of  later  days — eyes  of  a  deep 
blue,  brilliant  when  aroused,  a  bold 
rider,  a  capital  shot." 

As  for  the  moral  qualities  which  he 
adds  to  these  physical  traits,  the  pru 
dence  associated  with  courage  and 


96 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


"  that  omnipotent  something  which  we 
call  a  presence,"  which  faithful  Kent 
saw  in  his  old  discrowned  monarch 
Lear,  as  an  appeal  to  service  and 
named  "  authority," — it  is  time  enough 
to  make  these  reflections  when  the  man 
shall  have  proved  them  by  his  actions. 
He  will  have  opportunity  enough. 

After  getting  his  "law,"  the  young 
advocate  took  a  turn  in  the  miscella 
neous  pursuits  of  the  West,  as  a  store 
keeper  at  Martinsville,  in  Guildford 
County,  keeping  up  his  connection 
with  his  profession,  it  is  reported,  by 
performing  the  executive  duties  of  a 
constable.  He  has  now  reached  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  when  he  may  be 
said  fairly  to  have  entered  upon  his 
career,  as  he  received  the  appointment 
of  solicitor  or  public  prosecutor  in  the 
western  district  of  North  Carolina,  the 
present  Tennessee.  This  carried  him 
to  Nashville,  then  a  perilous  journey 
through  an  unsettled  country,  filled 
with  hostile  Indians.  He  arrived  at 
this  seat  of  his  future  home,  whence  his 
country  was  often  to  summon  him.  in  her 
hour  of  need,  in  October,  1788,  and  en 
tered  at  once  vigorously  on  the  practice 
of  his  profession,  which  was  very  much 
an  off-hand,  extempore  affair,  requiring 
activity  and  resolution  more  than  learn 
ing,  especially  in  the  main  duties  of  his 
office  as  collector  of  debts.  A  large 
extent  of  country  was  to  be  traversed 
in  his  circuits  of  the  wilderness,  on 
which  it  was  quite  as  important  to  be 
a  good  woodman  as  a  well-informed 
jurist.  Indeed,  there  was  more  fear  of 
the  Indian  than  of  the  Opposite  Coun 
sel.  Jackson  had  the  confidence  of  the 
mercantile  community  behind  him,  and 


discharged  his  duties  so  efficiently,  and 
withal  was  so  provident  of  the  future 
which  his  keen  eye  foresaw,  that  he 
prospered  in  his  fortunes,  and  in  a  few 
years  became  a  considerable  landed 
proprietor. 

In  1791  an  event  occurred  which  be 
came  subsequently  a  matter  of  frequent 
discussion,     and    which    certainly    re 
quired     some     explanation.      Andrew 
Jackson   married   at   Natchez,  on   the 
Mississippi,  Mrs.  Robards,  at  the  time 
not  fully  divorced  from  her  husband, 
though  both  Jackson  and  the  lady  be 
lieved  the  divorce  had  been  pronounced. 
The  error,  after  the  sifting  which  the 
affair  received  when  it  became  a  ground 
of  party  attack,  and  the  blazing  light 
of  a  Presidential  canvass  was  thrown 
upon  it,  is  easily  accounted  for.     The 
circumstances  of  the  case  may  be  thus 
briefly  narrated  :     A  Colonel  Donelson, 
one    of    the    founders    of    Nashville, 
brought  with  him  to  that  settlement, 
not  many  years  before,  his  daughter 
Rachel,  who  at  the  time  of  Jackson's 
arrival  was  married  to  a  Mr.  Robards, 
of  Kentucky.     The  young  "  solicitor  " 
found  the  pair  living  with  the  lady's 
mother,  Mrs.  Donelson,  in  whose  house 
Jackson  became  an  inmate.     Robards 
appears  to  have  been  of  a  jealous  tem 
perament,  and  moreover  of  unsettled 
habits  of  living.     At  any  rate,  he  had 
hig  home  apart  from  his  wife,  and  we 
presently  find  him,  in  the  second  win 
ter  after  Jackson's  arrival,  applying  as 
a  Kentuckian,  to  the  Virginia  legisla 
ture  for  a  divorce.     He  procured  an  or 
der   for   the   preliminary  proceedings, 
which  were  understood,  or  rather  misun 
derstood  by  the  people  of  Tennessee,  as 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


97 


an  authoritative  separation.  With  this 
view  of  the  matter,  as  the  explanation 
is  given,  the  marriage  took  place.  The 
divorce  was  legally  completed  in  1*793. 
"When  Jackson  then  learnt  the  true 
state  of  the  case  he  had  the  marriage 
ceremony  performed  a  second  time. 
Dining  the  whole  of  the  affair  from 
the  beginning,  though  he  acted  as  a 
friend  of  the  lady,  he  appears  to  have 
conducted  himself  toward  her  with  the 
greatest  propriety.  Indeed,  a  certain 
innate  sense  of  delicacy  and  pure  chi 
valrous  feeling  toward  woman,  was  al 
ways  a  distinctive  trait  of  his  character. 
It  was  constantly  noticed  by  those 
most  intimate  with  him,  as  a  remarka 
ble  characteristic,  in  a  man  roughly 
taking  his  share  in  the  wild  pursuits 
and  dissipations  of  the  day.  He  was 
no  doubt  early  an  admirer  of  the  lady, 
whose  gay,  spirited  qualities  and  ad 
venturous  pioneer  life  were  likely  to 
fascinate  such  a  man,  and  made  no 
secret  of  his  contempt  for  the  husband, 
threatening  on  one  occasion,  wrhen  he 
was  pestered  by  his  jealousies,  to  cut 
out  his  ears.  The  story  of  his  mamage 
was  of  coirfse  variously  interpreted,  but 
he  allowed  no  doubtful  intimations  of 
the  matter  in  his  presence.  It  was  a 
duel  or  war  to  the  knife  when  any  hes 
itation  on  that  subject  was  brought  to 
his  hearing. 

The  region  into  which  Jackson  had 
emigrated,  having  passed  through  its 
territorial  period,  when  the  solicitor 
became  attorney  general,  reached  its 
majority  in  a  State  name  and  govern 
ment  of  its  own  in  1796.  He  was 
one  of  the  delegates  to  the  convention 
at  Kiioxville,  which  formed  the  consti- 

13 


tution  of  Tennessee,  and  one  of  the  two 
members  of  each  county,  to  whom  was 
intrusted  the  drafting  of  that  instru 
ment.  When  the  State  was  admitted 
into  the  Union,  Andrew  Jackson  was 
chosen  its  first,  and,  at  that  time,  only 
representative  to  Congress.  lie  took 
his  seat  at  the  beginning  of  the  session, 
at  the  close  of  the  year,  and  was  con 
sequently  present  to  receive  the  last 
opening  message  of  George  Washing 
ton,  it  being  usual  in  those  days  for 
the  President  to  meet  both  houses  to 
gether  at  the  commencement  of  their 
sitting,  and  deliver  his  speech  in  per 
son — what  is  now  the  President's  mes 
sage.  In  like  manner,  according  to  the 
usage  of  the  English  Parliament,  a  re 
ply  was  prepared  and  voted  upon  by 
each  house,  which  was  carried  in  per 
son  by  the  members  to  the  President's 
mansion.  The  reply,  in  this  instance, 
proposed  in  the  House  of  Representa 
tives  by  the  Federalist  committee,  was 
thought  too  full  an  indorsement  of  the 
policy  of  the  administration,  and  met 
with  some  opposition  from  the  Repub 
lican  minority,  Andrew  Jackson  ap 
pearing  as  one  of  twrelve,  by  the  side 
of  Edward  Livingston,  and  William  B. 
Giles,  of  Virginia,  voting  against  it.  He 
did  not  speak  on  the  question,  and  his 
vote  may  be  regarded  simply  as  an  indi 
cation  of  his  party  sentiments,  though, 
had  he  "been  an  ardent  admirer  of  Wash 
ington,  he  might,  spite  of  his  Tennessee 
politics,  have  voted  with  Gallatin  for 
the  original  address.  That  he  did  not, 

O  ' 

does  not  imply  necessarily  any  disaffec 
tion  to  Washington  ;  but  there  was  pro 
bably  little  of  personal  feeling  in  the 
matter  to  be  looked  for  from  him.  The 


98 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


independent  life  of  the  South  and  West 
had  never  leaned,  as  the  heart  of  the 
Eastern  and  Atlantic  regions,  upon  the 
right  arm  of  Washington.  The  only 
question  upon  which  he  spoke  during 
the  session  was  in  favor  of  assuming 
certain  expenses  incurred  in  an  Indian 
expedition  in  his  adopted  State ;  and 
the  resolution  which  he  advocated  was 
adopted.  His  votes  are  recorded  in 
favor  of  appropriations  for  the  navy, 
and  against  the  black  mail  paid  to  Al 
giers.  His  success  in  the  Indian  bill 
was  well  calculated  to  please  his  con 
stituents,  and  he  was  accordingly  re 
turned  the  next  year  to  the  Senate.  It 
was  the  first  session  of  the  new  admin 
istration,  and  all  that  is  told  of  his  ap 
pearance  on  the  floor  is  the  remark  of 
Jefferson  in  his  old  age  to  Daniel 
Webster,  that  he  had  often  seen  him, 
from  his  Vice  President's  chair,  attempt 
to  speak,  and  "as  often  choke  with 
rage."  Mr.  Parton  adds  to  this  recollec 
tion  the  bare  fact  that  he  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Duane  of  the  "  Au 
rora,"  Aaron  Burr  and  Edward  Liv 
ingston.  He  retired  before  the  end 
of  the  session,  and  resigned  his  seat. 
Private  affairs  called  him  home ;  but 
he  could  not  have  been  well  adapt 
ed  to  senatorial  life,  or  he  did  not  like 
the  position,  else  he  would  have  man 
aged  to  retain  it.  It  was  an  honor  not 
to  be  thrown  away  lightly  by  an  ambi 
tious  young  man. 

We  next  behold  him  chosen  by  the 
legislature  a  judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Tennessee — a  post,  one  would 
think,  of  severer  requisitions  than  that 
of  United  States  senator,  since  a  mem 
ber  of  a  legislative  body  may  give  a 


silent  vote  or  be  relieved  of  an  onerous 
committee,  while  the  occupant  of  the 
bench  is  continually  called  upon  to  ex 
ercise  the  best  faculties  of  the  mind. 
It  is  to  Jackson's  credit  that  he  held 
the  position  for  six  years,  during  which, 
as  population  flowed  into  the  State  and 
interests  became  more  involved,  the 
requisitions  of  the  office  must  have 
been  continually  becoming  more  exact 
ing.  Its  duties  carried  him  to  the 
chief  towns  of  the  State,  where  he  was 
exposed  to  the  observation  of  better 
read  lawyers  than  himself.  As  no  re 
cord  was  kept  of  his  decisions,  we  have 
to  infer  the  manner  in  which  he  ac 
quitted  himself  from  what  we  know  of 
his  qualifications.  He  no  doubt  made 
himself  intelligible  enough  on  simple 
questions  and  decided  courageously 
and  honestly  what  he  understood  ;  but 
in  any  nice  matter  he  must  have  been 
at  fault  from  want  of  skill  in  statement, 
if  we  may  judge  of  his  talents  in  this 
respect  by  his  printed  correspondence, 
which  is  ill  spelt,  ungramniatical  and 
confused. 

His  personal  energy,-however,  doubt 
less  helped  him  on  occasion,  as  in  the 
famous  anecdote  of  his  arrest  of  Russell 
Bean.  This  strong  villain,  infuriated 
by  his  personal  wrongs,  was  at  war 
with  society,  and  bade  defiance  to  jus 
tice.  It  was  necessary  that  he  should 
be  brought  before  the  court  where 
Jackson  presided,  but  it  was  pro 
nounced  impossible  to  arrest  him.  The 
sheriff  and  his  posse  had  alike  failed, 
when  the  difficulty  was  solved  by  the 
most  extraordinary  edict  which  ever 
issued  from  the  bench.  "  Summon  me," 
said  the  judge  to  the  law  officer.  It 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


was  done  and  the*  arrest  was  made.  It 
is  curious  to  read  of  a  judge  of  the  Su 
preme  Court  planning  duels  and  rough 
personal  encounter  with  the  governor 
of  the  State,  as  we  do  of  Judge  Jack 
son  in  his  quarrel  with  Governor  Se- 
vier.  No  stronger  evidence  could  be 

O 

afforded  of  the  imperfect  social  condi 
tion  of  the  country.  It  was  a  rude,  un 
finished  time,  when  life  was  passed  in  a 
fierce  personal  contest  for  supremacy, 
and  wrongs  real  and  imaginary  were 
righted  at  sight  by  the  pistol.  This 
period  of  Jackson's  career,  including 
the  ten  years  following  the  retirement 
from  the  bench,  are  filled  with  prodi 
gious  strife  and  altercation.  The  duel 
ling  pistols  are  always  in  sight,  and 
dreary  are  the  details  of  wretched 
personal  quarrels  preliminary  to  their 
use. 

The  first  of  these  encounters  in 
which  Jackson  was  a  principal  occurred 
as  early  as  1795,  when  he  was  engaged 
in  court  and  challenged  the  opposite 
counsel  on  the  spot  for  some  scathing 
remark,  writing  his  message  on  the 
blank  leaf  of  a  law  book.  Shots  were 
exchanged  before  the  parties  slept. 
The  most  prominent  of  Jackson's  alter 
cations,  however,  was  his  duel  with 
Dickinson,  a  meeting  noted  among  nar 
ratives  of  its  class  for  the  equality  of 
the  combat,  and  the  fierce  hostility  of 
the  parties.  It  was  fought  in  1806,  on 
the  banks  of  Red  River  in  Kentucky. 
Charles  Dickinson  was  a  thriving  young 
lawyer  of  Nashville,  who  had  used 
some  invidious  expressions  regarding 
Mrs.  Jackson.  These  were  apologized 
for  and  overlooked  when  a  roundabout 
quarrel  arose  out  of  the  terms  of  a ! 


horse  race,  which,  after  involving  Jack- 
sou  in  a  caning  of  one  of  the  parties, 
and  his  friend  Coffee  in  a  duel  with 
another,  ended  in  bringing  the  former 
in  direct  collision  with  Dickinson.  A 
duel  was  arranged.  The  principals 
were  to  be  twenty-four  feet  apart,  and 
take  their  time  to  fire  after  the  word 
was  given.  Both  were  excellent  shots, 
and  Dickinson,  in  particular,  was  sure 
of  his  man.  So  certain  was  Jackson  of 
being  struck,  that  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  let  his  antagonist  have  the 
first  fire,  a  deliberate  conclusion  of 
great  courage  and  resolution,  based 
on  a  very  nice  calculation.  lie  knew 
that  his  antagonist  would  be  quicker 
than  himself  at  any  rate,  and  that  if 
they  fired  together  his  own  shot  would 
probably  be  lost  in  consequence  of  the 
stroke  he  must  undoubtedly  receive 
from  the  coming  bullet.  He  conse 
quently  received  the  fire,  and  was  hit  as 
he  expected  to  be.  The  ball,  aimed  at 
his  heart,  broke  a  rib  and  grazed  the 
breast  bone.  His  shoes  were  filling 
with  blood  as  he  raised  his  pistol,  took 
deliberate  aim,  re-adjusted  the  trigger 
as  it  stopped  at  half  cock,  and  shot  his 
adversary  through  the  body.  Dickin 
son  fell,  to  bleed  to  death  in  a  long 
day  of  agony.  Jackson  desired  his 
own  wound  to  be  concealed,  that  his 
opponent  might  not  have  the  gratifica 
tion  of  knowing  that  he  had  hit  him 
at  all.  Such  was  the  courage  and  such 
the  revenge  of  the  man.1 

After  leaving  the  judgeship,  Jackson 
—he  was  now  called  General  Jackson, 


1  The  details  of  this  affair  with  all  its  preliminaries,  oc 
cupy  forty  octavo  pages  of  Mr.  Parton's  narrative — a 
curious  and  most  instructive  pictur»  of  the  times. 


100 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


having  been  chosen  by  the  field  officers 
major  general  of  the  State  militia  in 
1801,  gaining  the  distinction  by  a  sin 
gle  vote — employed  himself  on  his 
plantation,  the  Hermitage,  near  Nash 
ville,  and  the  storekeeping  in  which  he 
had  been  more  or  less  engaged  since 
his  arrival  in  the  country.  In  partner 
ship  with  his  relative,  Coffee,  he  was  a 
large  exchanger  of  the  goods  of  the 
West  for  the  native  produce,  which  he 
shipped  to  New  Orleans ;  and  it  was 
for  his  opportunities  of  aiding  him  in 
procuring  provisions,  as  well  as  for  his 
general  influence,  that  Colonel  Burr 
cultivated  his  acquaintance  in  his  west 
ern  schemes  in  1805,  and  the  following 
year.  General  Jackson,  at  first  fasci 
nated  by  the  man,  who  stood  well  with 
the  people  of  the  country  as  a  republi 
can,  introduced  him  into  society  and 
entertained  him  at  his  house ;  but 
when  suspicion  was  excited  by.  his 
measures,  he  was  guarded  in  his  inter 
course,  and  stood  clearly  forth  on  any 
issue  which  might  arise,  involving  the 
preservation  of  the  integrity  of  the 
Union.  On  that  point  no  friendship 
could  bribe  him.  Accordingly  he 
offered  his  services  to  President  Jeffer 
son,  and,  receiving  orders  to  hold  his 
command  in  readiness,  there  was  great 
military  bustle  of  the  major  general  in 
Nashville,  raising  and  reviewing  com 
panies,  to  interrupt  the  alarming  pro 
ceedings  of  Colonel  Burr  on  the  Ohio. 
When  it  was  found  that  there  was  no 
thing  formidable  to  arrest,  Jackson's 
feeling  of  regard  for  Burr  revived,  he 
acquitted  him  of  any  treasonable  in 
tent,  and  resolutely  took  his  part  dur 
ing  the  trial  at  Richmond. 


On  the  breaking  o,ut  of  the  war  with 
England,  in  1812,  General  Jackson  was 
one  of  the  first  to  tender  his  services  to 
the  President.  He  called  together 
twenty-five  hundred  volunteers  and 
placed  them  at  the  disposal  of  the 
Government.  The  proffer  was  accept 
ed,  and  in  December  Jackson  was  set 
in  motion  at  the  head  of  two  thousand 
men  to  join  General  Wilkinson,  then 
in  command  at  New  Orleans.  The 
season  was  unusually  cold  and  incle- 
jnent ;  but  the  troops,  the  best  men  of 
the  State,  came  together  with  alacrity, 
and  by  the  middle  of  February  were 
at  Natchez,  on  the  Mississippi.  Jack 
son's  friend  and  relative,  Colonel  Cof 
fee,  led  a  mounted  regiment  overland, 
while  the  rest  descended  the  river. 
Colonel  Thomas  H.  Benton  also  ap 
pears  on  the  scene  as  General  Jackson's 
aid.  At  Natchez,  the  party  was  ar 
rested  by  an  order  from  Wilkinson,  and 
remained  in  inaction  for  a  mouth,  when 
a  missive  came  from  the  War  Depart 
ment  disbanding  the  force.  Thus  was 
nipped  in  the  bud  the  ardent  longing 
of  the  general,  and  the  promise  of  one 
of  the  iinest  bodies  of  men  ever  raised 
in  the  country.  Jackson,  taking  the 
responsibility,  resolved  that  they  should 
not  be  dismissed  till,  as  in  duty  bound, 
he  had  returned  them  home.  He  ac 
cordingly  led  them  back  by  land,  and 
so  solicitous  was  he  for  their  welfare 
by  the  way,  so  jealous  of  their  rights, 
carelessly  invaded  by  the  government, 
that  his  popularity  with  the  men  was 
unbounded.  The  fiery  duellist,  "  sud 
den  and  quick  in  quarrel,"  gained  by 
his  patient  kindness  and  endurance  on 
that  march,  the  endearing  appellation. 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


101 


destined  to  be  of  world-wide  fame — 
Old  Hickory. 

lie  had  taken,  as  we  have  said,  the 
responsibility  in  bringing  home  the 
troops.  This  involved  an  assumption 
of  their  debts  by  the  way,  for  it  was 
not  certain,  though  to  be  presumed, 
that  the  government  would  honor  his 
drafts  for  the  expenses  of  transporta 
tion.  It  did  not.  The  paper  was  pro 
tested  and  returned  upon  his  hands. 
In  this  strait,  Colonel  Benton,  going  to 
Washington,  undertook  the  'manage 
ment  of  the  affair,  and  by  a  politic  ap 
peal  to  the  fears  of  the  administration, 
lest  it  should  lose  the  vote  of  the  State, 
secured  the  payment.  As  he  was  about 
returning  to  Nashville,  waTrned  by  this 
•act  of  friendship,  he  received  word 
from  his  brother  that  General  Jackson 
had  acted  as  second  in  a  duel  to  that 
brother's  adversary — a  most  ungracious 
act,  as  it  appeared,  at  a  moment  when 
the  claims  of  gratitude  should  have 
been  uppermost.  The  explanation  was 
that  Carroll,  who  received  the  challenge, 
was  unfairly  assailed,  and  appealed,  as  a 
friend,  to  the  generosity  of  Jackson  to 
protect  him.  Taking  a  duel  very  much 
as  an  everyday  affair,  the  latter  proba 
bly  thought  little  of  the  absent  Benton. 
The  meeting  came  off,  and  Jesse  Ben- 
ton  was  wounded.  An  angry  letter 
was  written  to  Jackson  by  his  brother, 
who  came  on  to  Nashville,  venting  his 
wrath  in  the  most  denunciatory  terms 
—for  Benton's  vocabulary  of  abuse, 
though  not  more  condensed,  was  more 
richly  furnished  with  expletives  than 
that  of  his  general.  This  coming  to 
the  hearing  of  Jackson,  he  swore  his 
big  oath,  "by  the  Eternal,  that  he 


would  horsewhip  Tom  Benton  the  first 
time  he  met  him."  The  Bentons  knew 
the  man,  did  not  despise  the  threat,  but 
waited  armed  for  the  onset.  It  came 
off  one  day  at  the  door  of  the  City  Ho 
tel  in  Nashville.  There  were  several 
persons  actors  and  victims  in  the  affair. 
These  are  the  items  of  the  miserable 
business.  The  two  Bentons  are  in  the 
doorway  as  Jackson  and  his  friend  Co 
lonel  Coffee  approach.  Jackson,  with 
a  word  of  warning  to  Benton,  brandish 
es  his  riding-whip ;  the  Colonel  fum 
bles  for  a  pistol ;  the  General  presents 
his  own,  and  at  the  instant  receives  in 
his  arm  and  shoulder  a  slug  and  bullet 
from  the  barrel  of  Jesse  Benton,  who 
stands  behind.  Jackson  is  thus  dropped, 
weltering  in  his  blood' with  a  desperate 
wound.  Coffee  thereupon  thinking 
Tom  Benton's  pistol  had  done  the 
work,  takes  aim  at  him,  misses  fire,  and 
is  making  for  his  victim  with  the  butt 
end,  when  an  opportune  cellar  stair 
way  opens  to  the  retreating  Colonel, 
who  is  precipitated  to  the  bottom. 
Meanwhile  Stokely  Hays  arrives,  intent 
on  plunging  the  sword,  which  he  drew 
from  his  cane,  into  the  body  of  Jesse 
Benton.  He  deals  the  thrust  with  unc 
tion,  but  striking  a  button,  its  force 
is  lost  and  the  weapon  shivered.  A 
struggle  on  the  floor  then  ensues  be 
tween  the  parties,  the  fatal  dagger  of 
Hays  being  raised  to  transfix  his  wound 
ed  victim,  when  it  is  intercepted  by 
a  bystander,  and  the  murderous  and 
bloody  work  is  over.  Such  was  the 
famous  Benton  feud.  It  laid  Jackson 
ingloriously  up  for  several  weeks,  and 
drove  Colonel  Benton  to  Missouri 
There  was  a  long  interval  of  mutual 


102 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


hostile  feeling,  to  be  succeeded  by  a 
devoted  friendship  of  no  ordinary  in 
tensity. 

This  Benton  affray  took  place  on 
the  4th  of  September,  1813.  A  few 
days  before,  on  the  30th  of  August,  oc 
curred  the  massacre  by  the  Creek  In 
dians  of  the  garrison  and  inhabitants 
at  Fort  Minims,  a  frontier  post  in  the 
southern  part  of  Alabama.  A  large 
number  of  neighboring  settlers,  anxious 
for  their  safety,  had  taken  refuge  with 
in  the  stockade.  The  assailants  took 
it  by  surprise,  and  though  the  defend 
ers  fought  with  courage,  but  few  of  its 
inhabitants  escaped  the  terrible  car 
nage.  The  Indians  were  led  by  a  re 
doubtable  chieftain,  named  Weathers- 
ford,  the  son  of  a  white  man  and  a  Se- 
minole  mother,  a  leader  of  sagacity, 
of  great  bravery  and  heroism,  and 
of  no  ordinary  magnanimity.  He  was 
unable,  however,  to  arrest,  as  he  would, 
the  fiendish  atrocities  committed  at 
the  fort.  Women  and  children  were 
sacrificed  in  the  horrible  rage  for  slaugh 
ter,  and  the  bloody  deed  was  aggrava 
ted  by  the  most  indecent  mutilations. 
A  cry  was  spread  through  the  South 
west  similar  to  that  raised  in  our  own 
day  in  India,  at  the  Sepoy  brutalities. 
Vengeance  was  demanded  alike  for 
safety  and  retribution.  On  the  18th 
of  September  the  news  had  reached 
Nashville,  four  hundred  miles  distant, 
and  General  Jackson  was  called  into 
consultation  as  he  sat,  utterly  disabled 
with  his  Benton  wounds,  in  his  sick 
room.  It  was  resolved  that  a  large 
body  of  volunteers  should  be  sum 
moned,  and,  ill  as  he  was,  he  promised 
to  take  command  of  them  when  they 


were  collected.  Still  suffering  severely, 
before  they  were  ready  to  move  he 
joined  them  at  Fayetteville,  the  place 
of  meeting.  He  arrived  in  camp  the 
seventh  of  October,  and  bearan  his 

'  O 

work  of  organizing  the  companies. 
Everything  was  to  be  done  in  drill  and 
preparation  for  the  advance  into  a  wil 
derness  where  no  supplies  were  to  be 
had  ;  yet  in  four  days,  a  report  having 
reached  him  that  the  enemy  were  ap 
proaching,  he  led  his  troops,  about  a 
thousand  men,  an  afternoon  march  of 
thirty-two  miles  in  six  hours  to  Hunts- 
ville.  The  Indians,  however,  were  not 
yet  at  hand,  and  joining  Colonel  Coffee, 
whom  he  had  sent  forward  with  a  cav 
alry  command,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Tennessee,  he  was  reluctantly  com. 
pelled  to  wait  there  too  long  a  time  for 
his  impatience,  till  something  could  be 
done  in  providing  stores,  in  which  the 
army  was  lamentably  deficient.  A 
post  was  established  on  the  river 
named  Fort  Deposit,  whence  Jackson, 
still  inadequately  provided,  set  out,  on 
the  twenty-fifth  of  the  month,  on  his 
southward  march,  and  carried  his  force 
to  an  encampment  at  Ten  Islands, 
on  the  Coosa  River.  There  Coffee 
was  detached  to  attack  a  body  of  In 
dians  at  their  town  of  Talluschatches. 
He  performed  the  service  with  equal 
skill  and  gallantry ;  and  though  the 
Creeks,  as  they  did  throughout  the 
war,  fought  with  extraordinary  valor, 
urged  on  by  religious  fanaticism,  he 
gained  a  brilliant  victory.  One  of  the 
incidents  of  the  bloody  field  was  the 
accidental  slaughter  of  an  Indian  mo 
ther  clasping  her  infant  to  her  breast. 
The  child  was  carried  to  Jackson,  who 


ANDREW    .JACKSON. 


103 


had  it  tenderly  cared  for,  and  finally 
taken  to  his  home.  The  boy,  named 
Lincoyer,  was  brought  up  at  the  Her 
mitage,  and  suitably  provided  for  by 
the  general. 

The  next  adventure  of  the  campaign 
was  an  expedition  led  by  Jackson  him 
self  to  relieve  a^  camp  of  friendly  In 
dians  at  Talladega,  invested  by  a  large 
band  of  hostile  Creeks.  The  very 
night  on  which  he  received  the  message 
asking  aid,  brought  by  a  runner  who 
had  escaped  from  the  beleaguered  fort 
in  disguise,  he  started  with  a  force  of 
two  thousand  men,  eight  hundred  of 
whom  were  mounted,  and  in  a  long 
day's  march  through  the  wilderness 
traversed  the  intervening  distance, 
some  thirty  miles,  to  the  neighborhood 
of  the  fort.  The  dawn  of  the  next 
morning  saw  him  approaching  the  ene 
my — a  thousand  picked  warriors.  Dis 
posing  the  infantry  in  three  lines,  he 
placed  the  cavalry  on  the  extreme 
wiugs,  to  advance  in  a  curve  and  in 
close  the  foe  in  a  circle.  A  guard  was 
sent  forward  to  challenge  an  engage 
ment.  The  Indians  received  its  fire 
and  followed  in  pursuit,  when  the  front 
line  was  ordered  up  to  the  combat. 
There  was  some  misunderstanding,  and 
a  portion  of  the  militia  composing  it 
retreated,  when  the  general  promptly 
supplied  their  place  by  dismounting  a 
corps  of  cavalry  kept  as  a  reserve. 
The  militia  then  rallied,  the  fire  became 
general,  and  the  enemy  were  repulsed 
in  every  direction.  They  were  pursued 
by  the  cavalry  and  slaughtered  in  great 
numbers,  two  hundred  and  ninety 
Ix-iiiiC  Ifft  dead  on  the  field  and  many 
more  bore  the  marks  of  the  engagement. 


The  American  loss  was  fifteen  killed 
and  eighty-five  wounded.  The  friendly 
Creeks  came  forth  from  the  fort  to 
thank  their  deliverers,  and  share  with 
them  their  small  supply  of  food. 

This  was  emphatically,  contrary  to  all 
the  rules  of  war,  a  hungry  campaign. 
On  his  return  to  his  camp,  to  which, 
having  been  fortified,  the  name  Fort 
Strother  was  given,  Jackson  found  the 
supplies  which  he  had  urgently  demand 
ed,  and  which  he  so  much  needed,  not 
yet  arrived.  His  private  stores,  which 
had  been  bought  and  forwarded  at  his 
expense,  were  exhausted  to  relieve  the 
wants  of  his  men.  He  himself,  with 
his  officers,  subsisted  on  unseasoned 
tripe,  like  the  poor  and  proud  Spanish 
grandee  in  the  Adventure  of  Lhzarillo 
de  Tonnes,  eulogizing  the  horse's  foot, 
maintaining  that  he  liked  nothing  bet 
ter.  The  story  is  told  of  a  starving 
soldier  approaching  him  at  this  time 
with  a  request  for  food.  "  I  will  give 
you,"  said  the  general,  "  what  I  have," 
and  with  that  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  few  acorns,  "  my  best  and  only  fare."  * 

Food,  food,  was  the  constant  ciy  of 
Jackson  in  his  messages  to  the  rulers 
in  the  adjoining  States.  It  was  long 
in  coming,  and  in  the  meanwhile  the 
commander,  eager  to  follow  up  his  suc 
cesses  and  close  the  war,  was  con 
demned  to  remain  in  inactivity — the 
hardest  trial  for  a  man  of  his  temper. 
Scant  subsistence  and  the  hardships 
common  to  all  encampments  brought 
discontent.  The  men  longed  to  be  at 
home,  and  symptoms  of  revolt  began 
to  appear.  The  militia  actually  coin- 


1  Eaton's  Life  of  Jnr!  son,  p.  6C 


104 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


menced  their  march  backward ;  but 
they  Lad  reckoned  without  their  leader. 
On  starting  they  found  the  volunteers 
drawn  up  to  oppose  their  progress,  and 
abandoned  their  design.  Such  was  the 
force  of  Jackson's  authority  in  the 
camp,  that  when  these  volunteers,  who 
were  in  reality  disappointed  that  the. 
movement  did  not  succeed,  attempted 
in  their  turn  to  escape,  they  were  in 
like  manner  met  by  the  militia.  The 
occasion  required  all  Jackson's  ingenu 
ity  and  resolution,  and  both  were  freely 
expended.  His  iron  will  had  to  yield 
something  in  the  way  of  compromise. 
Appealing  to  his  men,  he  secured  a 
band  of  the  most  impressible  to  remain 
at  Fort  Strother,  while  he  led  the  rest 
in  quest"  of  provisions  toward  Fort  De 
posit.  The  understanding  was  that 
they  were  to  return  with  him  when 
food  was  obtained.  They  had  not 
gone  far  when  they  met  a  drove  of*  cat 
tle  on  their  way  to  the  camp.  A  feast 
was  enjoyed  on  the  spot ;  but  the  men 
were  still  intent  on  going  homeward. 
Nearly  the  whole  brigade  was  ready 
for  motion,  when  Jackson,  who  had 
ordered  their  return,  was  informed  of 
their  intention.  His  resolution  was 
taken  on  the  instant.  He  summoned 
his  staff,  and  gave  the  command  to  fire 
on  the  mutineers  if  they  attempted  to 
proceed.  One  company,  already  on 
the  way,  was  thus  turned  back,  when, 
going  forth  alone  among  the  men,  he 
found  the  movement  likely  to  become 
general.  There  was  no  choice  in  his 
mind  but  resistance  at  the  peril  of  his 
life,  for  the  men  once  gone,  the  whole 
campaign  was  at  an  end.  Seizing  a 
musket,  he  rested  the  barrel  on  the 


neck  of  his  horse — he  was  unable,  from 
his  wound,  to  use  his  left  arm — and 
threatened  to  shoot  the  first  who  should 
attempt  to  advance.  An  intimation  of 
this  kind  from  Jackson  was  never  to  be 
despised.  The  men  knew  it,  and  re 
turned  to  their  post.  They  yielded  to 
the  energy  of  a  superior  mind,  but 
they  were  not  content.  Their  next 
resource  was,  an  assertion  of  the  termi 
nation  of  their  year's  enlistment,  which 
they  said  would  expire  on  the  tenth  of 
December ;  but  here  they  were  met  by 
the  astute  lawyer,  who  reminded  them 
that  they  were  pledged  to  s^rve  one 
year  out  of  two,  and  that  the  year 
must  be  an  actual  service  in  the  field 
of  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days. 
The  argument,  however,  failed  to  con 
vince,  and  as  the  day  approached  the 
men  were  more  resolute  for  their  de 
parture.  They  addressed  a  courteous 
letter  to  their  commander,  to  which  he 
replied  in  an  earnest  expostulatory  ad 
dress.  "  I  know  not,"  he  said,  "  what 
scenes  will  be  exhibited  on  the  tenth 
instant,  nor  what  consequences  are 
to  flow  from  them  here  or  elsewhere ; 
but  as  I  shall  have  the  consciousness 
that  they  are  not  imputable  to  any  mis 
conduct  of  mine,  I  trust  I  shall  have 
the  firmness  not  to  shrink  from  a  dis 
charge  of  my  duty."  The  appeal  was 
not  heeded,  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
ninth  the  signs  of  mutiny  were  not  to 
be  mistaken.  The  general  took  his 
measures  accordingly.  He  ordered  all 
officers  and  soldiers  to  their  duty,  and 
stationed  the  artillery  company  with 
their  two  pieces  in  front  and  rear,  while 
he  posted  the  militia  on  an  eminence 
in  advance.  He  himself  rode  along 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


105 


the  line  and  addressed  the  men,  in 
their  companies,  with  great  earnestness. 
I  If  talked  of  the  disgrace  their  conduct 

o 

would  bring  upon  themselves,  their 
families  and  country  ;  that  they  would 
succeed  only  by  passing  over  his  dead 
body :  while  he  held  out  to  them  the 
prospect  of  reinforcements.  "  I  am 
too,"  he  said,  "  in  daily  expectation  of 
receiving  information  whether  you  may 
be  discharged  or  not ;  until  then,  you 
must  not  and  shall  not  retire.  I  have 
done  with  entreaty ;  it  has  been  used 
long  enough.  I  will  attempt  it  no 
more.  «5f  ou  must  now  determine  whe 
ther  you  will  go,  or  peaceably  remain  : 
if  you  still  persist  in  your  determina 
tion  to  move  forcibly  off,  the  point  be 
tween  us  shall  soon  be  decided."  There 
was  hesitation.  He  demanded  a  posi 
tive  answer.  Again  a  slight  delay. 
The  artillerist  was  ordered  to  prepare 
the  match.  The  word  of  surrender 
parsed  along  the  line,  and  a  second 
time  the  rebellious  volunteers  suc 
cumbed  to  the  will  of  their  master. 
These,  it  should  be  stated,  were  the 
very  men,  the  original  company,  whom 
Jackson  had  earned  to  Natchez,  and 
for  whose  welfare  on  their  return  he 
had  pledged  his  property.  But  in  vain 
he  reminded  them  of  the  fact,  and  ap 
pealed  to  their  sense  of  generosity  to 
remain  in  the  service.  He  gave  them 
finally  the  choice  to  proceed  to  Tennes 
see  or  remain  with  him.  They  chose 
the  former,  and  he  let  them  go. 

The  men  he  had  left  with  him  were 
enlisted  for  short  periods,  or  so  under 
stood  it.  There  was  little  to  build 
upon  for  the  campaign,  and  he  was 
even  advised  by  the  Governor  of  Ten 

14 


69,  to  abandon  the  prosecution  of 
the  war,  at  least  for  the  present,  or  till 
the  administration  at  Washington 
should  provide  better  means  for  carry 
ing  it  on.  This  was  not  advice,  des 
perate  as  appeared  the  situation,  to  be 
accepted  by  Jackson.  His  reply  was 
eminently  characteristic — charged  with 
a  determined  self-reliance  which  he 
sought  to  infuse  into  his  correspondent. 
"Take  the  responsibility"  is  written 
all  over  it.  "If  you  would  preserve 
your  reputation,"  he  writes,  "  or  that  of 
the  State  over  which  you  preside,  you 
must  take  a  straightforward,  deter 
mined  course ;  regardless  of  the  ap 
plause  or  censure  of  the  populace,  and 
of  the  forebodings  of  that  dastardly 
and  designing  crew,  who,  at  a  time  like 
this,  may  be  expected  to  clamor  con 
tinually  in  your  ears.  The  very 
wretches  who  now  beset  you  with  evil 
counsel,  will  be  the  first,  should  the 
measures  which  they  recommend  event 
uate  in  disaster,  to  call  down  impreca 
tions  on  your  head,  and  load  you  with 
reproaches.  Your  country  is  in  dan 
ger:  apply  its  resources  to  its  defence! 
Can  any  course  be  more  plain  ?  Do 
you,  my  friend,  at  such  a  moment  as 
the  present,  sit  with  your  arms  folded 
and  your  heart  at  ease,  waiting  a  solu 
tion  of  your  doubts  and  a  definition 
of  your  powers  ?  Do  you  wait  for  spe 
cial  instruction  from  the  Secretary  of 
War,  which  it  is  impossible  for  you  to 
receive  in  time  for  the  danger  that 
threatens?"  The  governor  had  said 
that  his  power  ceased  with  the  call  for 
troops.  "Widely  different,"  replies 
Jackson,  "  is  my  opinion.  You  are  to 
see  that  they  come  when  they  are 


106 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


called.  Of  what  avail  is  it,"  lie  urges 
with  an  earnestness  savoring  of  sarcasm, 
"  to  give  an  order  if  it  be  never  executed, 
and  may  be  disobeyed  with  impunity  ? 
Is  it  by  empty  mandates  that  we  can 
hope  to  conquer  our  enemies  and  save  our 
defenceless  frontiers  from  butchery  and 
devastation?  Believe  me,  my  valued 
friend,  there  are  times  when  it  is  highly 
criminal  to  shrink  from  responsibility 
or  scruple  about  the  exercise  of  our 
powers.  There  are  times  when  we 
must  disregard  punctilious  etiquette 
and  think  only  of  serving  our  country." 
He  also  presented,  in  like  forcible 
terms,  the  injurious  eifects  of  abandon 
ing  the  frontiers  to  the  mercy  of  the 
savage.  The  governor  took  the  advice 
to  heart,  pointedly  as  it  was  given ;  he 
ordered  a  fresh  force  of  twenty-five 
hundred  militia  into  the  field,  and 
seconded  General  Jackson's  call  upon 
General  Cocke  for  the  troops  of  East 
Tennessee.  Meantime,  however,  Jack 
son's  force  at  Fort  Strother  was  re 
duced  to  a  minimum ;  the  militia,  en 
listed  for  short  terms,  would  go,  and 
there  was  great  difficulty  in  getting 
new  recruits  on  to  supply  their  places. 
The  brave  Coffee  failed  to  reenlist  his 
old  regiment  of  cavalry.  There  was  a 
strange  want  of  alacrity  through  the 
early  period  of  this  war,  in  raising  and 
disciplining  the  militia.  With  a  pro 
per  force  at  his  command,  duly  equipped 
and  supplied,  Jackson  would  have 
brought  the  savages  to  terms  in  a 
month.  As  it  was,  nearly  a  year 
elapsed  ;  but  the  fighting  period,  when 
he  was  once  ready  to  move,  was  of 
short  duration. 

While  he  was  waiting  for  the  new 


Tennessee  enlistments,  he  determined 
to  have  one  brush  with  the  enemy  with 
such  troops  as  he  had.  He  according 
ly  set  in  motion  his  little  force  of  eight 
hundred  raw  recruits  on  the  fifteenth 
of  January,  on  an  excursion  into  the 
Indian  territory.  At  Talladega  he  was 
joined  by  between  two  and  three  hun 
dred  friendly  Cherokees  and  Creeks, 
with  whom  he  advanced  against  the 
foe,  who  were  assembled  on  the  banks 
of  the  Tallapoosa,  near  Emuckfau.  He 
reached  their  neighborhood  on  the 
night  of  the  twenty-first,  and  prepared 
his  camp  for  an  attack  before  morning. 
The  Indians  came,  as  was  expected, 
about  dawn  ;  were  repulsed,  and  when 
daylight  afforded  the  opportunity, 
were  pursued  with  slaughter.  There 
was  another  sharp  conflict  about  the 
middle  of  the  day,  which  ended  in  a 
victory  for  the  Americans,  at  some  cost 
to  the  conquerors,  who,  ill  prepared  to 
keep  the  field,  moved  back  toward  the 
fort.  Enotochopco  Creek  was  reached 
and  crossed  by  a  part  of  the  force, 
when  the  Indians  fell  upon  the  rear 
guard,  who  turned  and  fled ;  the  artil 
lery,  however,  still  left  on  that  side  of 
the  river,  gave  the  savages  a  warm  re 
ception,  when  they  were  pursued  by 
the  cavalry,  which  had  recrossed  the 
stream. 

By  this  time  the  country  was*  roused 
to  some  adequate  support  of  its  gene 
ral  in  the  field.  At  the  end  of  Febru 
ary,  Jackson  was  reinforced  by  the  ar 
rival  at  Fort  Strother  of  a  force  from 
East  and  West  Tennessee  of  about  five 
thousand  men.  By  the  middle  of  the 
next  month  he  was  in  motion,  terribly 
in  earnest  for  a  short  and  summary  ex- 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


107 


tirpation  of  the  savages.  The  execu 
tion  of  John  Woods,  a  Tennessee 
youth  who  had  shown  vsome  insubordi 
nation  in  camp,  was  a  prelude  to  the  | 
approaching  tempest.  The  commander 
thought  it  necessary  to  the  unity  and 
integrity  of  the  service.  Fortunately 
for  the  purposes  of  this  new  invasion, 
the  chief  warriors  of  the  nation  assem 
bled  themselves  at  a  place  convenient 
enough  for  defence,  but  where  defeat 
was  ruin.  It  was  at  Tohopeka,  an  In 
dian  name  for  the  horse-shoe  bend  of 
the  Tallapoosa,  an  area  of  a  hundred 
acres  inclosed  by  the  deep  waters  of 
the  river  and  protected  at  its  junction 
with  the  land  by  a  heavy  breastwork 
of  logs  pierced  for  musketry  and  skijl- 
fully  arranged  for  defence.  Within 
this  inclosure,  at  the  time  of  Jackson's 
arrival,  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  March, 
with  less  than  three  thousand  men,  in 
cluding  a  regiment  of  regulars  under 
Colonel  Williams,  were  assembled  some 
eight  or  nine  hundred  warriors  of  the 
Creeks.  The  plan  of  attack  was  thus 


arranged. 


Sending  General  Coffee  to 


the  opposite  side  of  the  river  to  effect 
a  diversion  in  that  quarter,  Jackson 
himself  directed  the  assault  on  the 
works  at  the  neck.  He  had  two  field 
pieces,  which  were  advantageously 
planted  on  a  neighboring  eminence. 
His  main  reliance,  however,  was  at 
close  quarters  with  his  musketry.  On 
the  river  side  General  Coffee  succeeded 
in  inclosing  the  bend  and  cutting  off 
escape  by  the  canoes,  .which  he  cap 
tured  by  the  aid  of  his  friendly  In 
dians,  and  used  as  a  means  of  landing 
in  the  rear  of  the  enemy's  position. 
This  success  was  the  signal  for  the  as 


sault  in  front.  Regulars  and  volun- 
teers,  eager  for  the  contest,  advance.  1 
boldly  up.  Reaching  the  rampart,  the 
struggle  was  for  the  port-holes,  through 
which  to  fire,  musket  meeting  musket 
in  the  close  encounter.  "  Many  of  the 
enemy's  balls,"  says  Eaton,  "  were 
welded  between  the  muskets  and  bay 
onets  of  our  soldiers.  Major  Montgo 
mery,  of  Williams's  regiment,  led  the 
way  on  the  rampart,  and  fell  dead  sum 
moning  his  men  to  follow.  Otli<-rs 
succeeded  and  the  fort  was  taken.  In 
vain  was  the  fight  kept  up  within,  from 
the  shelter  of  the  fallen  trees,  and 
equally  hopeless  was  the  attempt  at 
escape  by  the  river.  No  quarter  was 
asked,  and  none  given,  for  none  would 
be  received.  Women  and  children 
were  the  only  prisoners.  It  was  a  des 
perate  slaughter.  Nearly  the  whole 
band  of  Indians  perished,  selling  their 
lives  as  dearly  as  possible.  The  Ame 
rican  loss  was  fifty-five  killed  and  about 
thrice  the  number  wounded ;  but  the 
Cherokee  dead  were  to  be  counted  by 
hundreds.  Having  struck  this  fearful 
blow,  Jackson  retired  to  Fort  Williams, 
which  he  had  built  on  his  march,  and 
issued,  as  was  his  wont — he  was  quite 
equal  to  Napoleon  in  this  respect — an 
inspiriting  address  to  his  troops.  If 
the  words  are  not  always  his,  the  sen 
timent,  as  his  biographer  suggests,  is 
ever  Jacksonian.  Somebody  or  other 
was  always  found  to  give  expression  to 
his  ardent  ejaculations,  which  need 
only  the  broad  theatre  of  a  European 
battlefield  to  vie  with  the  thrilling 
manifestoes  of  Bonaparte.  "  The  fiends 
of  the  Tallapoosa  will  no  longer  mur 
der  our  women  and  children,  or  disturb 


108 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


the  quiet  of  our  borders.  Their  mid 
night  flambeaux  will  no  more  illumine 
their  council-house,  or  shine  upon  the 
victim  of  their  infernal  orgies."  The 
gratifying  event  was  nearer  even  than 
the  general  anticipated.  He  looked 
for  a  further  struggle,  but  the  spirit  of 
the  nation  was  broken.  Advancing 
southward,  he  joined  the  troops  from 
the  south  at  the  junction  of  the  Coosa 
and  Tallapoosa,  the  "Holy  Ground" 
of  the  Indians,  where  he  received  their 
offers  of  submission.  The  brave  chief 
tain,  Weathersford,  voluntarily  surren 
dered  himself.  A  portion  of  the  In 
dians  fled  to  Florida.  Those  who 
were  left  were  ordered  to  the  northern 
parts  of  Alabama,  Fort  Jackson  being 
established  at  the  confluence  of  the 
rivers  to  cut  off  their  communication 
with  foreign  enemies  on  the  seaboard. 
The  war  had  originally  grown  out  of 
the  first  English  successes  and  the 
movements  of  Tecumseh  on  the  north 
ern  frontier,  and  was  assisted  by  Span 
ish  sympathy  on  the  Gulf. 

Jackson  was  now  at  liberty  to  return 
to  Nashville  with  the  troops  who  had 
shared  his  victories.  He  had  of  course 
a  triumphant  reception  in  Tennessee, 
and  his  services  were  rewarded  at 
Washington  by  the  appointment  of 
major  general  in  the  army  of  the  Unit 
ed  States,  the  resignation  of  General 
Harrison  at  the  moment  placing  this 
high  honor  at  the  disposal  of  the  gov 
ernment.  It  was  an  honor  well  de 
served,  earned  by  long  and  patient  ser 
vice  under  no  ordinary  difficulties — 
difficulties  inherent  to  the  position, 
aggravated  by  the  delays  of  others, 
and  some,  formidable  enough  to  most 


men,  which  he  carried  with  him 
bound  up  in  his  own  frame.  We  so 
naturally  associate  health  and  bodily 
vigor  with  brilliant  military  achieve 
ments  that  it  requires  an  effort  of  the 
mind  to  figure  Jackson  as  he  really 
was  in  these  campaigns.  We  have 
seen  him  cariying  his  arm  in  a  sling, 
unable  to  handle  a  musket  when  he 
confronted  his  retiring  army ;  but  that 
was  a  slight  inconvenience  of  his 
wound  compared  with  the  gnawing 
disease  which  was  preying  upon  his 
system.  "  Chronic  diarrhoea,"  says  his 
biographer,  "  was  the  form  which  his 
complaint  assumed.  The  slightest  im 
prudence  in  eating  or  drinking  brought 
on  an  attack,  during  which  he  suffered 
intensely.  While  the  paroxysm  lasted 
he  could  obtain  relief  only  by  sitting 
on  a  chair  with  his  chest  against  the 

O 

back  of  it  and  his  arms  dangling  for 
ward.  In  this  position  he  was  some 
times  compelled  to  remain  for  hours. 
It  often  happened  that  he  was  seized 
with  the  familiar  pain  while  on  the 
march  through  the  woods  at  the  head 
of  the  troops.  In  the  absence  of  other 
means  of  relief  he  would  have  a  sap 
ling  half  severed  and  bent  over,  upon 
which  he  would  hang  with  his  arms 
downward,  till  the  agony  subsided."1 
In  July,  General  Jackson  was  again 
at  the  South  on  the  Alabama,  presid 
ing  at  the  treaty  conference  with  the 
Indians.  The  terms  he  proposed  were 
thought  hard,  but  he  was  inexorable 
in  requiring  them.  The  treaty  of  Fort 
Jackson,  signed  on  the  tenth  of  Au 
gust,  stripped  the  Creeks  of  more  than 


1  Parton's  Jackson,- 1.  547-8. 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


109 


half  of  their  possessions,  confining 
them  to  n  region  least  inconvenient  to 
the  peaceful  enjoyment  of  the  neigh 
boring  States.  "As  a  national  mark 
of  gratitude,"  the  friendly  Creeks  be- 
M<i\ved  upon  General  Jackson  and  his 
associate  in  the  treaty,  Colonel  Haw 
kins,  three  miles  square  of  land  to 
each,  with  a  request  that  the  United 
States  Government  would  ratify  the 
uilt  :  but  this,  though  recommended  to 
Congress  by  President  Madison,  was 
never  carried  into  effect. 

While  the  treaty  was  still  under  ne 
gotiation,  Jackson  was  intent  on  the 
next  movement  of  the  war,  which  he 
foresaw  would  carry  him  to  the  shores 
of  the  Gulf.  He  knew  the  sympathy 
of  the  Spaniards  in  Florida  with  the 
English,  and  was  prepared  for  the  de 
signs  of  the  latter  against  the  southern 
country.  Having  obtained  informa 
tion  that  British  muskets  were  distri 
buted  among  the  Indians,  and  that 
English  troops  had  been  landed  in  Flo 
rida,  lie  applied  to  the  Secretary  of 
War,  General  Armstrong,  for  permis 
sion  to  call  out  the  militia  and  reduce 
LVnsacola  at  once.  The  matter  was 
left  to  the  discretion  of  the  commander, 
but  the  letter  conferring  the  authority 
did  not  reach  him  for  six  months.  In 
the  mean  time  he  felt  compelled  to  take 
the  management  of  the  war  into  his 
ou -n  hands.  Fully  aware  of  the  im 
pending  struggle,  he  was  in  correspond 
ence  with  Governor  Claiborne  of  Lou 
isiana,  putting  him  on  his  guard,  and 
with  Maurequez,  the  Spanish  governor 
of  Pensacola,  calling  him  to  a  strict 
account  for  his  tampering  with  the 
enemy.  To  be  nearer  the  scene  of  op- 


crations,  he  removed,  immediately  after 

the  conclusion  of  the  treaty,  to  Mobile, 
where  he  could  gain  the  earliest  intelli 
gence  of  the  movements  of  the  British. 
Learning  there,  in  September,  of  a 
threatened  visit  of  the  fleet  under  the 
orders  of  Colonel  Nichols  to  Mobile, 
he  called  loudly  upon  the  governors  of 
the  adjoining  States  for  aid,  and  gave 
the  word  to  his  adjutant,  Colonel  But- 
ler,  in  Tennessee,  to  enlist  and  bring 
on  his  forces.  They  responded  eagerly 
to  the  call,  for  the  name  of  Jackson 
was  now  identified  with  glory  and  vic 
tory,  which  they  were  ambitious  to 
share.  His  old  friend,  General  Coffee, 
was  their  leader.  Before  they  arrived, 
the  fort  at  the  mouth  of  the  bay  was 
put  in  a  state  of  defence  under  the 
command  of  Major  Lawrence,  of  the 
United  States  infantry.  In  the  after 
noon  of  the  fifteenth  of  September  it 
was  his  fortune  to  maintain  the  .post 
against  a  bombardment  by  the  British 
fleet  of  Captain  Percy  which  recalls 
both  the  attack  and  success  of  the  de 
fenders  at  Fort  Sullivan,  in  the  war  of 
the  Revolution.  What  Moultrie  and 
his  brave  men  did  on  that  day  in  re 
pelling  the  assault  of  Sir  Peter  Parker 
and  his  ships  was  now  done  by  Law 
rence  at  Fort  Bowyer.  "  Don't  give  up 
the  fort "  was  his  motto,  as  "  Don't 
give  up  the  ship  "  had  been  uttered  by 
his  namesake  on  "the  dying  deck"  of 
the  Chesapeake,  the  year  before.  The 
fort  was  not  given  up.  Percy's  flag- 
'.  ship,  the  Hermes,  was  destroyed,  and 
the  remainder  of  his  command  returned, 
seriously  injured,  to  Pensacola. 

General  Jackson  rejoiced  in  this  vic 
tory   at   Mobile,  and  waited  only  the 


110 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


arrival  of  his  forces  to  carry  the  war 
home  to  the  British  in  Florida.  At 
the  end  of  October,  General  Coffee  ar 
rived  with  twenty-eight  hundred  men 
on  the  Mobile  River,  where  Jackson 
joined  him,  and  mustering  his  forces  to 
the  number  of  three  thousand,  marched 
on  the  third  of  November  against 
Pensacola.  Owing  to  the  difficulty  of 
obtaining  forage  on  the  way,  the  caval 
ry  was  dismounted.  The  troops  had 
rations  for  eight  days.  On  his  arri 
val  before  the  town,  beinsr  desirous 

'  O 

as  far  as  possible  of  presenting  his 
movements  in  a  peaceful  light,  Gene 
ral  Jackson  sent  a  messenger  forward 
to  demand  possession  of  the  forts  to  be 
held  by  the  United  States  "  until  Spain, 
by  furnishing  a  sufficient  force,  might 
be  able  to  protect  the  province  and 
preserve  unimpaired  her  neutral  char 
acter."  On  approaching  the  fort  the 
bearer  of  the  nag  was  fired  on  and 
compelled  to  retire.  Aware  of  the  de 
licacy  of  his  self-imposed  undertaking, 
before  proceeding  to  extremities  he 
sent  a  second  message  to  the  governor, 
by  a  Spanish  corporal  who  had  been 
captured  on  his  route.  This  time, 
word  was  brought  back  that  the  gov 
ernor  was  ready  to  listen  to  his  propo 
sals.  He  accordingly  sent  Major  Piere 
a  second  time  with  his  demands.  A 
council  was  held,  and  they  were  re 
fused.  Nothing  was  then  left  but  to 
proceed.  The  town  was  gained  by  a 
simple  stratagem.  Arranging  a  por 
tion  of  his  troops  as  if  to  advance 
directly  on  his  road,  he  drew  the  British 
shipping  to  a  position  on  that  side, 
when,  by  a  rapid  march,  he  suddenly 
presented  his  main  force  on  the  other. 


He  consequently  entered  the  town  be 
fore  the  movement  could  be  met.  A 
street  fight  ensued,  and  a  barrier  was 
taken,  when  the  governor  appeared 
with  a  flag  of  truce.  General  Jackson 
met  him  and  demanded  the  surrender 
of  the  military  defences,  which  was 
conceded.  Some  delay,  however,  oc 
curred,  which  ended  in  the  delivery  of 
the  fortifications,  of  the  town,  and  the 
blowing  up  of  the  fort  at  the  mouth 
of  the  harbor.  Having  accomplished 
this  feat,  the  British  fleet  sailed  away 
before  morning.  Whither  were  they 
bound?  To  Fort  Bowyer  and  Mobile 
in  all  probability,  and  thither  Jack 
son,  leaving  the  Spanish  governor  on 
friendly  terms  behind  him,  hastened 
his  steps.  Tarrying  a  few  days  for 
the  British,  who  did  not  come,  he  took 
his  departure  for  New  Orleans,  with 
his  staff,  and  in  a  journey  of  nine  days 
reached  the  city  on  the  first  of  Decem 
ber. 

If  ever  the  force  of  a  single  will, 
the  safety  which  may  be  provided  for 
an  imperilled  people  by  the  confidence 
of  one  strong  right  arm,  were  fully  il 
lustrated,  it  would  seem  to  be  in  the 
military  drama  which  was  enacted  in 
this  and  the  following  month  on  the 
banks  of  the  Mississippi.  Andrew 
Jackson  was  the  chief  actor.  Louisia 
na  had  brave  men  in  her  midst,  numer 
ous  in  proportion  to  her  mixed  popula 
tion  and  still  unsettled  condition,  but 
whom  had  she,  at  once  with  experience 
and  authority,  to  summon  on  the  in 
stant  out  of  the  discordant  materials  a 
band  strong  enough  for  her  preserva 
tion  ?  At  the  time  of  General  Jack 
son's  arrival  a  large  fleet  of  the  enemy 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


Ill 


was  hovering  on  the  coast  amply  pro 
vided  with  every  resource  of  naval  and 
military  art,  bearing  a  host  of  the  ve 
teran  troops  of  England,  experienced 
in  the  bloody  contests  under  Welling 
ton — an  expedition  compared  with 
which  the  best  means  of  defence  at 
hand  for  the  inhabitants  of  New  Or 
leans  resembled  the  resistance  of  the 
reeds  on  the  river  bank  to  Behemoth. 
It  was  the  genius  of  Andrew  Jackson 
which  made  those  reeds  a  rampart  of 
iron.  lie  infused  his  indomitable  cour 
age  and  resolution  in  the  whole  mass  of 
citizens.  A  few  troops  of  hunters,  a 
handful  of  militia,  a  band  of  smugglers, 
a  company  of  negroes,  a  group  of  peace 
ful  citizens  stiffened  under  his  inspira 
tion  into  an  army.  Without  Jackson, 
irresolution,  divided  counsels,  and  sur 
render,  might,  with  little  reproach  to 
the  inhabitants,  under  the  circumstan 
ces,  have  been  the  history  of  one  fatal 
fortnight.  With  Jackson  all  was  union, 
confidence  and  victory. 

The  instant  of  his  arrival  he  set 
about  the  work  of  organization,  review 
ing  the  military  companies  of  the  city, 
selecting  his  staff,  personally  examining 
the  approaches  from  the  sea  and  arrang 
ing  means  of  defence.  He  was  deter 
mined  that  the  first  step  of  the  enemy 
on  landing  should  be  resisted.  This 
was  the  inspiration  of  the  military 
movements  which  followed,  and  the 
Recret  of  his  success.  He  did  not  get 
behind  intrenchments  and  wait  for  the 
foe  to  come  up,  but  determined  to  go 
forth  and  meet  him  on  the  way.  He 
was  not  there  so  much  to  defend  New 
Orleans  as  to  attack  an  army  of  inso 
lent  intruders  and  drive  them  into  the 


B6a  They  might  be  tlmus-nids,  and 
his  force  might  be  only  hundreds,  but 
he  knew  of  but  one  resolve,  to  fight  to 
the  uttermost,  and  he  pursued  the  reso 
lution  as  if  he  were  revenging  a  per 
sonal  insult. 

Events  came  rapidly  on  as  was  anti 
cipated,  an  attack  was  made  from 
the  fleet  upon  the  gunboats  on  Lake 
Borgne.  They  were  gallantly  defend 
ed,  but  compelled  to  surrender.  This 
action  took  place  on  the  fourteenth  of 
December.  Now  was  the  time,  if  ever, 
to  met  the  invading  host.  The  spirit 
of  Jackson  rose,  if  possible,  yet  higher 
with  the  occasion.  Well  knowing  that 
not  a  man  in  the  city  could  be  spared, 
and  the  inefficiency,  in  such  emergencies, 
of  the  civil  authority,  he  resolve  to 
take  the  whole  power  in  his  own  hands. 
On  the  sixteenth,  he  proclaimed  mar 
tial  law.  Its  effect  was  to  concentrate 
every  energy  of  the  people  with  a  sin 
gle  aim  to  their  deliverance.  Two  days 
after,  a  review  was  held  of  the  State 
militia,  the  volunteer  companies,  and 
the  battalion  of  free  men  of  color,  when 
a  stirring  address  was  read,  penned  by 
the  general's  secretary,  Edward  Liv 
ingston — a  little  smoother  than  Old 
Hickory's  bulletins  in  the  Alabama 
wilderness,  but  not  at  all  uncertain. 
The  Tennessee,  Mississippi  and  Ken 
tucky  recruits  had  not  yet  arrived ; 
but  they  were  on  their  way,  straining 
every  nerve  in  forced  marches  to  meet 
the  coming  danger.  Had  the  British 
moved  with  the  same  energy,  the  city 
might  have  fallen  to  them.  It  was  not 

O 

till  the  twenty-first,  a  week  after  their 
victory  on  the  lake,  that  they  began 
their  advance,  and  pushed  a  portion  of 


112 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


their  force  through,  the  swamps,  reach 
ing  a  plantation  on  the  river  bank,  six 
miles  below  the  city,  on  the  forenoon 
of  the  twenty-third.  It  was  past  mid 
day  when  word  was  brought  to  Jack 
son  of  their  arrival,  and  within  three 
hours  a  force  of  some  two  thousand 
men  was  on  the  way  to  meet  them. 
No  attack  was  expected  by  the  enemy 
that  night ;  their  comrades  were  below 
in  numbers,  and  they  anticipated  an 
easy  advance  to  the  city  the  next  morn 
ing.  They  little  knew  the  commander 
with  whom  they  had  to  deal.  That 
very  night  they  must  be  assailed  in 
their  position.  Intrusting  an  impor 
tant  portion  of  his  command  to  General 
Coffee,  who  was  on  hand  with  his  brave 
Tennesseans,  charged  with  surrounding 
the  enemy  on  the  land  side,  Jackson 
himself  took  position  in  front  on 
the  road,  while  the  Carolina,  a  war 
schooner,  dropped  down  on  the  river 
opposite  the  British  station.  Her  can 
nonade,  at  half-past  seven,  throwing  a 
deadly  shower  of  grape-shot  into  the 
encampment,  was  the  signal  for  the 
commencement  of  this  night  struggle. 
It  was  a  fearful  contest  in  the  darkness, 
frequently  of  hand  to  hand  individual 
prowess,  particularly  where  Coffee's 
riflemen  were  employed.  The  forces 
actually  engaged  are  estimated  on  the 
part  of  the  British,  including  a  reinforce 
ment  which  they  received,  at  more  than 
twenty -three  hundred ;  about  fifteen 
hundred  Americans  took  part  in  the 
fight.  The  result,  after  an  engagement 
of  nearly  two  hours,  was  a  loss  to  the 
latter  of  twenty-four  killed,  and  one 
hundred  and  eighty-nine  wounded  and 
missing.  The  British  loss  was  much 


larger,  sustaining  as  they  did  the  addi 
tional  fire  of  the  schooner. 

Before  daylight,  Jackson  took  up  his 
position  at  a  canal  two  miles  distan,, 
from  the  camp  of  the  enemy,  and  con 
sequently  within  four  of  the  city.  The 
canal  was  deepened  into  a  trench,  and 
the  earth  thrown  back  formed  an  em 
bankment,  which  was  assisted  by  the 
famous  cotton  bales,  a  device  that 
proved  of  much  less  value  than  has 
been  generally  supposed.  A  fortnight 
was  yet  to  elapse  before  the  final  and 
conclusive  engagement.  Its  main  inci 
dents  were  the  arrival  of  General  Sir 
Edward  Pakenham,  the  commander-in- 
chief,  with  General  Gibbs,  in  the 
British  camp,  on  the  twenty-fifth,  bring 
ing  reinforcements  from  Europe ;  the 
occupation  by  the  Americans  of  a  posi 
tion  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river 
protecting  their  camp ;  the  destruction 
of  the  Carolina  by  red  hot  shot  on  the 
twenty-seventh;  an  advance  of  the 
British,  with  fearful  preparation  of 
artillery,  to  storm  the  works  the  fol 
lowing  day,  which  was  defeated  by  the 
Louisiana  sloop  advantageously  posted 
in  the  river,  and  the  fire  from  the 
American  batteries,  which  were  every 
day  gaining  strength  of  men  and  muni 
tions  ;  the  renewal  of  the  attack  with 
like  ill  success  on  the  first  of  January ; 
the  simultaneous  accession  to  the  Ame 
rican  force  of  over  two  thousand  Ken 
tucky  riflemen,  mostly  without  rifles; 
a  corresponding  addition  to  tho  enemy 
on  the  sixth,  and  a  general  accumula 
tion  of  resources  on  ]?oth  sides,  in  pre 
paration  for  the  final  encounter.  On 
the  eighth  of  January,  a  last  attempt 
was  made  on  the  American  front,  which 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


118 


extended  about  a  mile  in  a  straight  line 
from  the  river  along  the  canal  into  the 
wood.  The  plan  of  attack,  ^vhirh  was 
well  conceived,  was  to  take  possession 
of  the  American  work  upon  the  oppo 
site  bank  of  the  river,  turn  its  guns 
upon  Camp  Jackson,  and  under  cover 
of  this  diversion  scale  the  embankment, 
and  gain  possession  of  the  battery. l 
Tlic  first  was  defeated  by  the  want  of 
means,  and  loss  of  time  in  getting  the 
necessiry  troops  across  the  river;  the 
main  attack,  owing  to  some  neglect, 
Avas  inadequately  supplied  with  scaling 
ladders,  and  the  troops  were  marched 
up  t<>  slaughter  from  the  murderous  fire 
of  the  artillerymen  and  riflemen  from 

behind  the  embankment.    Throughout 

*• 

the  whole  series  of  engagements,  the 
American  batteries,  mounting  twelve 
guns  of  various  calibre,  were  most  skil 
ful  ly  served.  The  loss  on  that  day  of 
death  was  to  the  defenders  but  eight 
killed  and  thirteen  wounded ;  that  of 
the  assailants  in  killed,  wounded  and 
mi<sing  exceeded,  in  their  official  re 
turns  t\\<>  thousand.1  A  monument  in 
AY<  st mi nster  Abbey  attests  the  regret 
of  the  British  public  for  the  death  of 
the  cornniander-in-chief,  a  hero  of  the 
Peninsular  war,  the  lamented  Paken- 
ham. 

Ten  days  after,  having  endured  vari 
ous  hardships  in  the  meantime,  the 
British  army,  under  the  direction  of 
General  Lambert,  took  its  departure. 
On  the  twenty-first,  Jackson  broke  up 
his  camp  with  an  address  to  his  troops, 
and  returned  to  New  Orleans  in  tri 
umph.  On  the  twenty-third,  at  his 


1  Dawson'g  Battle*  of  the  United  States,  II.  419. 
15 


request,  a  Te  Deum  was  celebrated  at 
the  cathedral,  when  he  was  received  at 
the  door,  in  a  pleasant  ceremonial,  by  a 
group  of  young  ladies,  representing 
the  States  of  the  Union. 

The  conduct  of  Jackson  throughout 
the  month  of  peril,  whilst  the  enemy 
was  on  the  land,  was  such  as  to  secure 
him  the  highest  fame  of  a  commander. 
He  had  not  been  called  upon  to  make 
any  extensive  manoeuvres  in  the  field, 
but  he  had  taken  his  dispositions  on 
new  ground  with  a  rapid  and  profound 
calculation  of  the  resources  at  hand. 
His  employment  of  Lafitte  and  his  men 
of  Barrataria,  the  smugglers  whom  he 
had  denounced  from  Mobile  as  "  hellish 
banditti,91  is  proof  of  the  sagacity  with 
which  he  accommodated  himself  to  cir 
cumstances,  and  his  superiority  to  pre 
judice.  They  had  a  character  to  gain, 
and  turned  their  wild  experience  of 
gunnery  to  most  profitable  account  at 
his  battery.  His  personal  exertions 
and  influence  may  be  said  to  have  won 
the  field ;  and  it  should  be  remembered 
in  what  broken  health  he  passed  his 
sleepless  nights,  and  days  of  constant 
anxiety. 

The  departure  of  the  British  did  not 
|  relax  the  vigilance  of  the  energetic 
Jackson.  Like  the  English  Straffbrd, 
his  motto  was  "  thorough,"  as  the  good 
people  of  New  Orleans  learnt  before 
this  affair  was  at  an  end.  He  did  not 
abate,  in  the  least,  his  strict  military 
rule,  till  the  last  possible  occasion  for 
its  exercise  had  gone  by.  It  was  con 
tinued  when  the  enemy  had  left,  and 
through  days  and  weeks  when  as 
surance  of  the  peace  news  was  estab 
lished  to  every  mind  but  his  own.  He 


114 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


chose  to  have  certainty,  and  the  "  rigor 
of  the  game."  In  the  midst  of  the 
ovations  and  thanksgivings,  in  the  first 
moments  of  exultation,  he  signed  the 
death  warrant  of  six  mutineers,  de 
serters,  who  as  long  before  as  Septem 
ber,  had  construed  a  service  of  the  old 
legal  term  of  three  months  as  a  release 
from  their  six  months'  engagement; 
and  the  severe  order  was  executed  at 
Mobile.  In  a  like  spirit  of  military 
exactitude,  New  Orleans  being  still 
held  under  martial  law,  to  the  chafing 
of  the  citizens,  he  silenced  a  newspaper 
editor  who  had  published  a  premature, 
incorrect  bulletin  of  peace;  banished 
the  French  citizens  who  were  disposed 
to  take  refuge  from  his  jurisdiction  in 
their  nationality;  arrested  an  impor 
tant  personage,  M.  Louaillier,  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Legislature,  who  argued  the 
question  in  print;  and  when  Judge 
Hall,  of  the  United  States  Court, 
granted  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  to 
bring  the  affair  to  a  judicial  investiga 
tion,  he  was  promptly  seized  and  im 
prisoned  along  with  the  petitioner. 
The  last  affair  occurred  on  the  fifth  of 
March.  A  week  later,  the  official  news 
of  the  peace  treaty  was  received  from 
Washington,  and  the  iron  grasp  of  the 
general  at  length  relaxed  its  hold  of 
the  city.  The  civil  authority  succeeded 
to  the  military,  when  wounded  justice 
asserted  its  power,  in  turn,  by  summon 
ing  the  victorious  general  to  her  bar, 
to  answer  for  his  recent  contempt  of 
court.  He  was  unwilling  to  be  entan 
gled  in  legal  pleadings,  and  cheerfully 
paid  the  imposed  fine  of  one  thousand 
dollars.  He  was  as  ready  in  submit 
ting  to  the  civil  authority  now  that  the 


war  was  over,  as  he  had  been  decided 
in  exacting  its  obedience  when  the 
safety  of  the  State  seemed  to  him  the 
chief  consideration.  Thirty  years  after, 
the  amount  of  the  fine,  principal  and 
interest  was  repaid  him.  by  Congress. 

The  reception  of  the  victorious  de 
fender  of  New  Orleans,  on  his  return  to 
Nashville,  and  subsequent  visit,  in  au 
tumn,  to  the  seat  of  government,  was 
a  continual  ovation.  On  his  route,  at 
Lynchburgh,  in  Virginia,  he  was  met 
by  the  venerable  Thomas  Jefferson, 
who  toasted  him  at  a  banquet  of  citi 
zens.  The  administration,  organizing 
anew  the  military  defence  of  the  coun 
try,  created  him  major  general  of  the 
southern  division  ,of  the  army,  the 
whole  force  being  arranged  in  two  de 
partments,  of  which  the  northern  was 
assigned  to  General  Brown. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  name  of 
Jackson  was  again  to  fill  the  public 
ear,  and  impart  its  terrors  alike  to  the 
enemy  and  to  his  own  government. 
The  speck  of  war  arose  in  Florida, 
which,  what  with  runaway  negroes, 
hostile  Indians,  filibustering  adventu 
rers,  and  the  imbecility  of  the  Spanish 
rule,  became  a  constant  source  of  irrita 
tion  to  the  adjoining  American  States. 
There  were  various  warlike  prelimina 
ries,  and  at  last,  towards  the  end  of 
1817,  a  murderous  attack  by  the  Semi- 
noles  upon  a  United  States  boat's  crew 
ascending  the  Appalachicola.  General 
Jackson  was  called  into  the  field, 
charged  with  the  suppression  of  the 
war.  Eager  for  the  service,  he  sprang 
to  the  work,  and  conducted  it  in  his 
own  fashion,  "taking  the  responsibil 
ity"  throughout,  summoning  volunteers 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


115 


t«>  accompany  Mm  from  Tennessee  will  i- 
out  the  formality  of  the  civil  authority, 
advancing  rapidly  into  Florida  after 
liis  arrival  at  the  frontier,  capturing  the 
Spanish  fort  of  St.  Marks,  and  push 
ing  thence  to  the  Suwanee.  General 
M'lutosli,  the  half-breed  who  accompa 
nied  his  march,  performed  feats  of 
valor  in  the  destruction  of  the  Semi- 
noles.  At  the  former  of  these  places, 
a  trader  from  New  Providence,  a  Scotch 
man  named  Arbuthnot,  a  superior  mem 
ber  of  his  class,  and  a  pacific  man,  fell 
into  his  hands ;  and  in  the  latter,  a  va 
grant  English  military  adventurer,  one 
Ambrister.  Both  of  these  men  were 
held  under  arrest,  charged  with  com 
plicity  with  the  Indian  aggressions, 
and  though  entirely  irresponsible  to 
the  American  commander  of  this  mili 
tary  raid,  were  summarily  tried  under 
his  order  by  a  court-martial  on  Spanish 
territory,  at.  St.  Marks,  found  guilty, 
and  executed  by  his  order  on  the  spot. 
lie  even  refused  to  receive  the  recon 
sideration  of  the  court  of  its  sentence 
of  Ambrister,  substituting  stripes  and 
imprisonment  for  death.  Ambrister 
was  shot,  and  Arbuthnot  hung  from 
the  yard-arm  of  his  own  vessel  in  the 
harbor.  During  the  remainder  of  Jack 
son's  life,  these  names  rang  through 
the  country  with  a  fearful  emphasis  in 
the  strife  of  parties.  Of  the  many 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  his  eulogists, 
this  is,  perhaps,  the  most  considerable. 
His  own  explanation,  that  he  was  per 
forming  a  simple  act  of  justice,  would 
seem,  with  his  previous  execution  of 
the  six  mutineers,  to  rest  upon  a  par 
tial  study  of  the  testimony ;  but  this 
responsibility  should  of  course  be  di 


vide*  1  with  the  members  of  his  court- 
martial.  The  chief  remaining  events 
of  the  campaign  were  an  angry  co: 
pondencewith  the  governor  of  Georgia, 
in  respect  to  an  encroachment  on  his 
authority  in  ordering  an  attack  on  an 
Indian  village,  and  the  capture  of  Pen- 
sacola,  in  which  he  left  a  garrison. 

Reckoning  day  with  the  government 
was  next  in  order.  The  debate  in  Con 
gress  on  the  Florida  transactions  was 
long  and  animated,  Henry  Clay  bear 
ing  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  opposi 
tion.  The  resolutions  of  censure  were 
lost  by  a  large  majority  in  the  House. 
The  failure  to  convict  was  a  virtual  vote 
of  thanks.  Fortified  by  the  result,  the 
general,  who  had  been  in  Washington 
during  the  debate,  made  a  triumphal 
visit  to  Philadelphia  and  New  York. 
At  the  latter  place  he  was  presented 
with  the  freedom  of  the  city  in  a  gold 
box,  which,  a  topic  for  one  of  the  poets 
of  the  "  croakers "  at  the  time,  has  bo- 
come  a  matter  of  interest  since,  in  the 
discussion  growing  out  of  a  provision 
of  the  general's  will.  He  left  the  gift 
to  the  bravest  of  the  New  York  officers 
in  the  next  war.  It  was  finally  be 
stowed,  in  1850,  upon  General  Ward 
B.  Burnett,  the  colonel  of  a  New  York 
regiment  distinguished  in  the  Mexican 
war.  The  original  presentation  took 
place  at  the  City  Hall,  in  February, 
1819. 

The  protracted  negotiations  with 
Spain  for  the  purchase  of  Florida  being 
now  brought  to  an  end  by  the  acquisition 
of  the  country,  General  Jackson  was 
appointed  by  President  Monroe  the 
first  governor  of  the  Territory.  He 
was  present  at  the  formal  cession  at 


116 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


Pensacola,  on  the  17th  of  July,  1821, 
and  entered  upon  his  new  duties  with 
his  usual  vigor — a  vigor  in  one  instance, 
at  least,  humorously  disproportioned  to 
the  scene,  in  a  notable  dispute  with  the 
Spanish  governor,  in  the  course  of 
which  there  was  a  fresh  imbroglio  with 
a  United  States  judge,  and  the  foreign 
functionary  was  ludicrously  locked  up 
in  the  calaboose — all  about  the  deliv 
ery  of  certain  unimportant  papers. 
On  a  question  of  authority,  it  was 
Jackson's  habit  to  go  straight  forward 
without  looking  to  see  what  important 
modifying  circumstances  there  might 
be  to  the  right  or  left.  It  was  a  mili 
tary  trait  which  served  him  very  well 
on  important  occasions  in  war,  and  sub 
sequently  in  one  great  struggle,  that 
of  the  Bank,  in  peace;  but  in  smaller 
mixed  matters,  it  might  easily  lead  him 
astray.  For  this  Don  Callava's  com 
edy,  we  must  refer  the  reader  to  Mr. 
Parton's  full  and  entertaining  narra 
tive — not  the  most  imposing,  but  cer 
tainly  not  the  least  instructive  portion 
of  his  book.  The  Florida  governor 
ship  was  not  suited  to  the  demands  of 
Jackson's  nature ;  his  powers  were  too 
limited  and  restricted ;  the  irritation  of 
the  Spanish  quarrel  was  not  calculated 
to  lighten  his  disease,  and  Mrs.  Jackson 
was  at  his  side  to  plead  the  superior 
claims  of  home.  Thither,  after  a  few 
months'  absence,  he  returned,  doubtless 
greatly  to  the  relief  of  the  Secretary  of 
State,  Mr.  Adams,  who  said  at  the  time 
to  a  friend,  "  he  dreaded  the  arrival  of 
a  mail  from  Florida,  not  knowing  what 
General  Jackson  might  do  next." *  The 


1  Parton's  Jackson,  II.  639. 


remainder  of  General  Jackson's  life  may 
be  regarded  as  chiefly  political;  it  is 
rather  as  a  man  of  action  in  politics, 
than  as  a  theoretical  statesman,  in  any 
sense,  that  he  is  to  be  considered.  He 
had  certain  views  in  public  affairs  apart 
from  the  army,  which  were  more  mat 
ters  of  instinct  than  of  reflection  or 
argument.  The  two  great  trophies  of 
his  administrations,  his  course  towards 
South  Carolina  in  the  preservation  of 
the  Union,  and  his  victory  over  the 
interests  of  the  United  States  Bank, 
were  of  this  character.  They  were 
both  questions  likely  to  present  them 
selves  strongly  to  his  mind.  He  had 
an  old  republican  antagonism  to  paper 
money,  and  the  corruptions  of  a  large 
moneyed  corporation  allied  to  the 
government,  and  having  once  formed 
this  idea,  his  military  energy  came  in 
to  carry  it  out  through  eveiy  availabl 
means  at  his  disposal. 

His  availability  for  the  Presidency 
was  based  upon  his  popularity  with 
the  people  wherever  they  had  fairly 
come  in  contact  with  him.  The  people, 
above  all  other  qualities,  esteem  those 
of  a  strong,  earnest,  truthful,  straight 
forward  character.  They  admire  force 
and  unity  of  purpose,  and  require  hon 
esty.  Jackson  had  these  requisites  in 
perfection.  There  was  no  mistaking 
his  single  aim.  It  had  been  displayed 
on  a  field  where  nothing  is  hidden  from 
the  popular  eye,  where  it  is  even  dis 
posed  to  exaggeration  of  what  it  fairly 
takes  in.  In  producing  a  candidate  for 
popular  favor  in  an  ordinary  election,  a 
great  deal  is  to  be  done,  in  common 
cases,  in  bringing  the  public  to  an  un 
derstanding  of  his  claims.  His  reputa- 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


117 


tion  lias,  in  a  measure,  to  be  manufac 
tured.  Voters  have  to  be  schooled  to 
his  appreciation.  But  Jackson's  fame 
was  already  made — made  by  himself. 
Various  things  of  great  importance  to 
the  nation  were,  at  different  times,  to 
he  done,  and  Jackson  had  accomplished 
them.  He  had  freed  the  land  from  the 
savage,  and  swept  the  invader  from  the 
soil.  He  had  been  charged  with  some 
errors,  but,  granting  the  worst,  they 
had  no  taint  of  selfishness  or  fraud. 
It'  he  was  over  rigorous  in  punishing 
deserters,  and  punctilious  in  his  mili- 
taiy  authority,  it  was  a  public  necessity 
which  nerved  his  resolution.  A  few 
might  be  sufferers  by  his  ill-directed 
zeal,  but  the  masses  saw  only  the  splen 
dor  of  a  righteous  indignation.  It  was 

o  o 

for  them  the  work  was  done,  and  the 
penalty  incurred.  His  worst  private 
vice  was  that  of  a  duellist,  which  is 
always  more  apt  to  be  associated  with 
principles  of  honor,  than  its  frequent 
incentive,  unworthy  self-assertion. 

It  is  not  at  all  surprising  that  such  a 
man  should  be  summoned  to  the  Pre 
sidency.  He  was  nominated  by  the 
legislature  of  his  own  State  in  1823, 
which  sent  him  again  to  the  Senate, 
and  he  was  highest  on  the  list  of  the 
candidates  voted  for  the  following 

o 

year — he  had  ninety-nine  out  of  two 
hundred  and  sixty-one  votes — when 
the  election  was  carried  into  the  House 
of  Representatives,  and  Adams  was 
chosen  by  the  influence  of  Henry  Clay. 
At  the  next  election,  he  was  borne  tri 
umphantly  into  the  office,  receiving 
more  than  double  the  number  of  votes 
of  his  antagonist,  Mr.  Adams.  The 
vote  was  one  hundred  and  seventy- 


eight  to  eighty-three.  At  the  election 
of  1832,  the  third  time  Jackson's  popu 
larity  was  tested  in  this  way,  the  vote 
stood  for  Clay  forty-nine,  for  Jackson 
two  hundred  and  thirty-nine. 

The  record  of  these  eight  years  of 
his  Presidential  service,  from  1829  to 
1837,  is  the  modern  history  of  the 
democratic  party,  of  the  exertions  of 
its  most  distinguished  representatives, 
of  the  establishment  of  its  most  che 
rished  principles — its  anti-bank  creed 
in  the  overthrow  of  the  national  bank, 
and  origination  of  the  subtreasury 
system,  which  went  into  operation  with 
his  successor — the  reduction  of  the 
tariff — the  opposition  to  internal  im 
provements — the  payment  of  the  na 
tional  debt.  In  addition  to  the  settle 
ment  of  these  long  agitated  questions, 
his  administration  was  signalized  by 
the  removal  of  the  Gherokees  from 
Georgia,  and  the  Creeks  from  Florida; 
while  its  foreign  policy  was  candid  .and 
vigorous,  bringing  to  a  satisfactory 
adjustment  the  outstanding  claims  on 
France  and  other  nations,  and  main 
taining  friendly  relations  with  England. 
In  all  these  measures,  his  energetic  hand 
was  felt,  but  particularly  was  his  pecu 
liar  character  manifested  in  his  veto  of 
1832,  and  general  conduct  of  the  bank 
question,  the  collection  of  the  French 
indemnity,  and  his  enforcement  of  the 
national  authority  in  South  Carolina. 
The  censure  of  the  Senate  on  the 
28th  March  1834,  for  his  removal  of  the 
deposits  of  the  public  money  from  the 
bank  as  "an  assumption  of  authority 
and  power  not  conferred  by  the  Consti 
tution  and  laws,  but  in  derogation  of 
both  " — a  censure  supported  by  the  ex- 


118 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


traordinary  coalition  of  Calhoun,  Clay 
and  Webster,  measures  the  extent  of 
the  opposition  his  course  encountered 
in  Congress  ;  while  the  Expunging  Re 
solution  of  1837,  blotting  out  that  con 
demnation,  indicates  the  reception  and 
progress  of  his  opinions  with  the  seve 
ral  States  in  the  brief  interim.  The 
personal  attack  made  upon  him  in 
1835,  by  a  poor  lunatic  at  the  door  of 
the  Capitol,  "  a  diseased  mind  acted 
upon  by  a  general  outcry  against  a 
public  man,"  l  may  show  the  sentiment 
with  which  a  large  portion  of  the  press 
and  a  considerable  popular  party  habit 
ually  treated  him. 

The  love  of  Andrew  Jackson  for 
the  Union  deserves  at  this  time  more 
than  a  passing  mention.  It  was  em 
phatically  the  creed  of  his  head  and 
heart.  He  had  no  toleration  for  those 
who  sought  to  weaken  this  great  in 
stinct  of  nationality.  No  sophism 
could  divert  his  understanding  from 
the  plainest  obligations  of  duty  to  his 
whole  country.  He  saw  as  clearly  as 
the  subtlest  logician  in  the  Senate 
the  inevitable  tendencies  of  any  argu 
ment  which  would  impair  the  alle 
giance  of  the  people  of  the  States 
to  the  central  authority.  He  could 
not  make  such  a  speech  as  Web 
ster  delivered  on  the  subject,  but  he 
knew  as  well  as  Webster  the  abyss 
into  which  nullification  would  plunge 
its  advocates.  His  vigorous  policy 
saved  his  own  generation  the  trials  to 
which  ours  has  been  subjected.  Had 
his  spirit  still  ruled  at  the  proper  mo 
ment  in  the  national  administration, 

1  Benton's  Thirty  Years'  View,  I.  623. 


we  too  might  have  been  spared  the  un 
told  evils  of  a  gigantic  rebellion.  It  is 
remarkable  that  it  was  predicted  by 
him — not  in  its  extent,  for  his  patriot 
ism  and  the  ardor  of  his  temperament 
would  not  have  allowed  him  to  imagine 

o 

a  defection  so  wide-spread,  or  so  la 
mentable  a  lack  of  energy  in  giving 
encouragement  to  its  growth — but  in 
its  motive  and  pretences.  When  nulli 
fication  was  laid  at  rest,  his  keen  in 
sight  saw  that  the  rebellious  spirit 
which  gave  the  doctrine  birth  was  not 
extinguished.  He  pronounced  the  tar 
iff  only  the  pretext  of  factious  and 
malignant  disturbers  of  the  public 
peace,  "  who  would  involve  their  coun 
try  in  a  civil  war  and  all  the  evils  in 
its  train,  that  they  might  reign  and 
ride  OIL  its  whirlwinds,  and  direct  the 
storm."  Disunion  and  a  southern  con 
federacy,  and  not  the  tariff,  he  said, 
were  the  real  objects  of  the  conspira 
tors,  adding,  with  singular  sagacity, 
"  the  next  pretext  will  be  the  negro  or 
the  slavery  question."  l 

Eight  years  of  honorable  repose  re 
mained  to  the  victor  in  so  many  battles, 
military  and  political,  after  his  retire 
ment  from  the  Presidency.  They  were 
passed  in  his  seat  near  Nashville,  the 
home  of  his  happy  married  life,  but  no 
longer  cheered  by  the  warm-hearted, 
sincere,  devout  sharer  of  his  many 
trials.  That  excellent  wife  had  been 
taken  from  him  on  the  eve  of  his  first 
occupation  of  the  Presidential  chair, 
and  her  memory  only  was  left,  with  its 
inviting  lessons  of  piety,  to  temper  the 
passions  of  the  true-hearted  old  man  as 


1  Letter  to  the  R«v.  Andrew  J.  Crawford.    Washing 
ton,  May  1,  1833. 


ANDREW    JACKSON. 


119 


he  resigned  himself  to  religion  and  the 
CMTVS  of  another  and  better  world.  lie 
had  early  adopted,  as  his  own  son,  a 
rjephew  of  his  wife,  and  the  child  grew 
up  always  fondly  cherished  by  him, 
bore  his  name  and  inherited  his  estate. 
"  The  Hermitage,"  the  seat  of  a  liberal 
hospitality,  never  lacked  intimates  dear 
to  him.  He  had  the  good  heart  of  Dr. 
Johnson  in  taking  to  his  home  and  at 
taching  to  himself  friends  who  grew 
strong  again  in  his  manly  confidence. 
Thus,  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  tranquil 
old  age,  looking  back  upon  a  career 
which  belonged  to  histoiy,  he  met  the 
increasing  infirmities  of  ill  health  with 
pious  equanimity,  a  member  of  the 
Presbyterian  church,  where  his  wife 
had  so  fondly  worshipped — life  slowly 
el»l)ing  from  him  in  the  progress  of  his 
dropsical  complaint — till  one  summer 
day,  the  eighth  of  June,  1845,  the  child 
of  the  Revolution,  an  old  man  of  sev 
enty-eight,  closed  his  eyes  in  lasting 
repose  at  his  beloved  Hermitage. 

The  genius  and  peculiarities  of  An 
drew  Jackson  afford  a  tempting  subject 
for  the  pen  of  the  essayist.  His  reso 
lute  will,  strong,  fierce  and  irresistible, 
resting  upon  a  broad  honesty  of  nature, 


was  paramount.  It  was  directed  more 
by  feeling  and  impulse  than  by  educ.-i- 
tion  and  reflection  ;  consequently  there 
was  a  spice  of  egotism  even  in  its  pur 
est  resolves,  and  it  sometimes  took 
harsh  ways  to  good  ends.  Somehow 
or  other  it  generally  had  the  sanction 
of  success.  The  integrity  of  his  pub 
lic  life,  the  great  national  measures 
with  which  his  name  is  identified,  will 
throw  into  obscurity,  on  the  page  of 
history,  his  personal  weaknesses — the 
violence  of  his  temper,  his  oaths,  his 
quarrels  and  occasional  seeming  want 
of  magnanimity.  Strange  that  so  fin 
ished  and  courteous  a  gentleman  should 
at  times  have  been  so  rude  ! 

An  apology  has  been  found  in  the 
struggles  of  his  early  life,  the  rough 
frontier  society  into  which  he  was  in 
troduced,  and  the  lifelong  irritations  of 
disease.  That  in  despite  of  these  tan 
gible  defects,  he  should,  through  so 
great  a  variety  of  circumstances,  civil 
and  military,  have  controlled  so  many 
strong  and  subtle  elements,  and  have 
found  so  many  learned  and  able  men 
to  do  his  work  and  assist  him  in  his 
upward  path,  is  the  highest  proof  of 
his  genius. 


MARTIN   VAN    BUREN. 


MAKTTN-  VAN  BUREN,  the  eighth  Pre 
sident  of  the  United  States,  was  born 
at  Kinderhook,  Columbia  County,  New 
York,  December  5th,  1782.  His  name 
imports  his  Dutch  descent,  his  family 
being  among  the  early  settlers  who 
came  from  Holland  to  the  New  Nether 
lands.  Abraham  Van  Buren,  the  father 
of  Martin,  is  spoken  of  as  a  farmer  in 
moderate  circumstances,  u  an  upright, 
amiable,  and  intelligent  man,  of  strong 
common  sense,  and  distinguished  for  his 
pacific  disposition."  He  had  little  op 
portunity  to  bestow  upon  his  son  a 
costly  classical  education ;  but  the  boy 
had  the  benefit  of  such  instruction  as 
the  village  school  and  academy  afforded, 
and  its  course  included  "  some  know 
ledge  of  Latin."  His  quickness  and  in 
telligence  marked  him  out  for  the  pro 
fession  of  the  law,  the  study  of  which 
he  commenced  at  the  early  age  of  four 
teen,  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Francis  Sylves 
ter,  a  highly  respectable  practitioner  at 
Kinderhook.  This  apparently  prema 
ture  entrance  in  the  training  of  the  pro 
fession  is  accounted  for  by  a  former 
regulation  of  the  bar,  which  required  a 
seven  years'  course  of  instruction,  except 
in  the  case  of  those  who  had  received  a 
collegiate  degree,  when  an  allowance 
was  made  for  the  usual  four  years  of 
the  undergraduate  course. 


The  young  Van  Buren  was  early  set 
to  try  cases  in  the  Justices'  Courts, 
and  as  it  is  always  in  America  but  a 
single  step  from  the  lawyer's  office 
to  the  political  arena,  he  found  his 
way  when  he  was  but  eighteen  to  a 
nominating  convention  of  the  Republi 
can  party,  of  a  candidate  for  the  State 
legislature.  These  and  similar  employ 
ments  marked  the  young  man  while  he 
was  yet  a  student,  for  future  activity 
and  employment  in  public  affairs.  This 
tendency  was  increased  by  his  engage 
ment  in  the  last  year  of  his  preparatory 
course  in  the  office  of  Mr.  William  P. 
Van  Ness,  a  distinguished  leader  of  the 
Republican  party  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  friend  of  Aaron  Burr.  The 
latter  is  said  to  have  cultivated  the  soci 
ety  of  the  young  student  at  law  from 
Columbia  County,  and  impressed  upon 
him  much  of  his  political  sagacity  in 
the  organization  and  government  of 
party.  In  1803,  in  his  twenty-first  year, 
Mr.  Van  Buren  was  admitted  to  the  bar 
of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State,  and 
returned  to  Kinderhook  to  begin  prac 
tice  at  the  law.  His  half-brother,  his 
mother's  son  by  a  first  marriage,  Mr. 
James  I.  Van  Alen,  afterward  a  mem 
ber  of  Congress,  was  there  established 
as  a  lawyer,  and  the  two  formed  at 
once  a  business  connection.  This  part- 

120 


> 


MARTIN    VAN    BUREN. 


121 


,  who  was  somewhat  of  a  politician, 
was  attached  to  the  Federal  party, 
which  was  the  ruling  influence  in  the 

O 

county,  and  many  considerations  were 
urged  upon  young  Van  Buren  to  adopt 
the  prevalent  creed.  He  had,  however, 
chosen  his  path.  "Firmly  fixed,"  says 
his  biographer,  Mr.  Holland,  "  by  reflec 
tion  and  observation  in  the  political 
faith  of  his  father,  who  was  a  Whiinn  the 

'  O 

Revolution,  an  anti-Federalist  in  1788, 
and  an  early  supporter  of  Jefferson,  he 
shrunk  not  from  the  severe  tests  which 
were  applied  to  the  strength  and  integ 
rity  of  his  convictions.  Without  pa 
tronage,  comparatively  poor,  a  plebeian 
by  birth,  and  not  furnished  with  the 
advantages  of  a  superior  education,  he 
refused  to  worship  either  at  the  shrine 
of  wealth  or  powep,  but  followed  the 
dictates  of  his  native  judgment  and  be 
nevolent  feelings,  and  hesitated  not,  in 
behalf  of  the  cause  which  he  thus 
adopted,  to  encounter  the  utmost  vio 
lence  of  his  political  enemies.  That 
violence  soon  burst  upon  his  head  with 
concentrated  fury.  His  character  was 
traduced,  his  person  ridiculed,  his  prin 
ciples  branded  as  infamous,  his  integ 
rity  questioned,  and  his  abilities  sneered 
at."  This  is  one  side  of  the  picture — 
the  opposition  of  the  Federalists ;  it  has 
another,  the  partisan  friendship  of  the 
Republicans.  The  latter  gave  the  young 
lawyer  and  politician  their  support ; 
he  throve  in  his  profession ;  was  mar 
ried  happily,  in  1806,  to  Miss  Hannah 
Hoes,  a  distant  relative  on  the  mother's 
side;  and  in  1808  had  his  first  party 
reward  from  the  Republican  state  ad 
ministration  of  Governor  Tompkins, 
which  he  had  assisted  into  office.  He 
16 


received  the  appointment  of  surrogate 
of  Columbia  County,  which  induced 
him  to  remove  to  the  county  seat  at 
Hudson,  where  he  devoted  himself  assi 
duously  to  the  bar. 

In  politics,  as  we  have  seen,  Mr.  Van 
Buren  was  an  active  participant  from 
the  start  as  an  ardent  supporter  of  the 
Jeffersonian  politics  of  the  day.  In  the 
State  divisions  he  attached  himself  to 
the  fortunes  of  Governor  Tompkins, 
and  was  prominent  in  sustaining  his 
anti-bank  policy.  It  was  on  the  latter 
issue,  in  opposition  to  Edward  P.  Liv 
ingston,  a  bank-democrat  supported  by 
the  Federalists,  that  Mr.  Van  Buren  was 
chosen  a  State  senator  from  the  coun 
ties  comprising  the  Middle  District.  It 
was  a  closely  contested  election,  the 
successful  candidate  having  a  majority 
of  only  about  two  hundred  in  an  aggre 
gate  vote  of  twenty  thousand. 

It  was  the  season  of  a  new  Presi 
dential  election,  the  first  term  of  Mr. 
Madison  being  about  to  expire.  As  it 
was  the  custom  at  that  time  to  nomi 
nate  the  State  electors  by  a  caucus  of 
the  political  parties  in  the  legislature, 
Mr.  Van  Buren  was,  of  course,  called 
upon  to  participate  in  their  decision. 
The  Republican  members  had  already, 
in  their  spring  session,  nominated  De 
Witt  Clinton  for  that  high  office,  a 
nomination  to  which  Mr.  Van  Buren 
now  gave  his  support.  This  brought 
him  in  a  quasi  union  with  the  Federal 
ists,  who  gave  their  support  to  Mr.  Clin 
ton,  and  has  led  his  biographers  to 
take  particular  pains  to  exhibit  his  ad 
herence  to  the  war  policy  of  the  admin 
istration  at  Washington,  toward  which, 
at  the  outset  at  least,  Mr.  Clinton  had 


122 


MARTIN    YAN  BUREN. 


been  opposed.  But  whatever  doubts 
may  have  been  thrown  over  his  views 
by  this  accidental  party  relation,  seem 
ing  to  compromise  his  thorough-going 
republicanism,  his  adherence  to  war 
measures  was  made  explicit  enough  in 
the  Address  which  he  prepared  as  chair 
man  of  the  committee  nominating  Go 
vernor  Tompkins  for  reelection  in  1813, 
and  by  his  subsequent  advocacy  in  the 
legislature  of  the  most  stringent  war 
measures,  particularly  in  an  act  to  en 
courage  privateering,  and  another  which 
was  known  as  the  "  classification  law," 
of  the  nature  of  a  conscription,  author 
izing  the  governor  to  place  at  the  dis 
posal  of  the  President  twelve  thousand 
men  of  the  militia  —  a  measure  which, 
though  adopted,  peace  intervening,  was 
not  required  to  be  put  in  practice.  The 
acts  just  alluded  to  were  violently  op 
posed  by  the  Federalists,  and  submit 
ted  to  a  severe  scrutiny  after  their  pas 
sage,  in  the  Council  of  Revision,  a  body 
which  then  sat  as  an  integral  part  of  the 
legislature  in  confirming  its  laws.  Chan 
cellor  Kent  there  delivered  an  opinion 
against  them.  It  was  published,  and 
replied  to  by  Samuel  Young,  then 
Speaker  of  the  Assembly,  in  several 
newspaper  articles  sigtfed  "Juris  Con- 
sultus"  which  were  answered  by  the 
chancellor  under  the  signature  "Amicus 
Curice"  Upon  this  Mr.  Van  Buren  met 
the  latter,  directing  his  attention  espe 
cially  to  the  assault  upon  the  morality 
of  the  privateering  law,  in  a  series  of  ar 
ticles  signed  "Amicus  Juris  Consul- 


After  peace  was  concluded,  in  the 
words  of  his  eulogist,  Colonel  Benton, 
•'  to  complete  his  course  in  support  of 


the/  war,  and  to  crown  his  meritorious 
labors  to  bring  it  to  a  happy  conclu 
sion,  it  became  Mr.  Van  Buren' s  fortune 
to  draw  up  the  vote  of  thanks  of  the 
greatest  State  of  the  Union,  to  the  great 
est  general  which  the  war  had  produced 
— *  the  thanks  of  the  New  York  legisla 
ture  to  Major-General  Jackson,  his  gal 
lant  officers  and  troops,  for  their  won 
derful  and  heroic  victory,  in  defence  of 
the  grand  emporium  of  the  West.' " 

The  ability  displayed  by  Mr.  Van 
Buren  in  the  Senate  indicated  him.  as 
a  worthy  incumbent  of  the  office  of 
attorney-general  of  the  State,  an  ap 
pointment  which  he  received  in  1815. 
He  was  also  in  this  year  created  a  Re 
gent  of  the  University,  and  in  the  fol 
lowing  was-  re  elected  for  another  term 
of  four  years  to  the  Senate.  He  then 
took  up  his  residence  at  Albany,  where 
he  continued  his  practice  at  the  bar, 
which  had  steadily  increased,  and 
formed  a  partnership  with  his  pupil, 
the  late  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  to  whom, 
as  the  political  relations  of  Mr.  Van 
Buren  became  more  engrossing,  the  bu 
siness  of  the  office  was  gradually  relin 
quished. 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  attempt  to 
follow  Mr.  Van  Buren  through  the  in 
tricate  windings  of  New  York  political 
history.  It  is  a  story  of  cross  purposes, 
which  can  be  fully  understood  only  by 
a  minute  study  of  the  history  of  the 
times,  if,  indeed,  we  are  as  yet  supplied 
with  the  full  materials  for  its  compre 
hension.  It  may  be  sufficient  to  say 
that  much  in  those  days,  by  a  politician 
bent  upon  advancement,  had  to  be  ac 
complished  by  management  and  in 
trigue.  The  ship  was  to  be  assisted  in 


MARTIN    VAN    BURKN 


123 


its  course  by  side  winds  and  under  cur 
rents.  Thus  we  find  Mr.  Van  Buren 
with  his  party  at  one  time,  by  some  pro 
cess  of  fusion  of  Republicans  and  Fed 
eralists,  supporting  De  Witt  Clinton; 
at  another,  leading  in  his  overthrow.  It 
became  a  question  of  party  existence. 
What  is  called  the  Albany  Regency,  a 
body  of  practised  politicians  who  com 
bined  their  resources  in  office  and 
through  the  press  in  establishing  and 
cementing  democratic  authority,  was 
called  into  being.  Clinton  had  the 
prestige  of  a  great  name  in  the  State, 
and  the  influence  of  commanding  ta 
lents,  sustained  by  the  most  indomita 
ble  usefulness  and  industry  ;  he  was  the 
great  supporter  of  the  Canal  policy, 
which  was  at  length  triumphantly  car 
ried  through,  but  which  had,  mean 
while,  to  bear  the  brunt  of  a  ruthless 
opposition ;  in  his  personal  bearing  he 
was  charged  with  haughtiness,  which 
was,  probably,  nothing  more  than  the 
dignity  and  reserve  of  a .  superior  na 
ture,  exclusively  engrossed  in  honor 
able  ends,  requiring  the  devotipn  of  the 
whole  man.  At  any  rate,  a  party  strug 
gle  ensued  between  the  friends  of  the 
governor  and  of  Mr.  Van  Buren,  which 
was  conducted  with  great  acrimony. 
One  of  its  results  was  the  removal  of 
the  latter  from  his  office  of  attorney- 
general,  by  that  political  machine  of  the 
old  constitution,  the  Council  of  Ap 
pointment,  in  1819,  at  a  moment  when 
he  had  become  obnoxious  to  the  CKn- 
tonians  by  his  efforts  to  oppose  the  re 
election  of  their  chieftain.  The  decapi 
tation  caused  some  stir  at  the  time, 
which  is  commemorated  in  one  of  the 
poetical  effusions  of  the  Croakers,  with 


a  prophetic  hint  of  the  victim's  higher 
destiny. 

Tia  vain  to  win  a  profit  man's  name, 

Without  some  proof  of  having  been  one, 
And  kill  in,/'*  a  sure  path  to  fame, 

Vide  Jack  Ketch  and  Mr.  Clinton  I 
Our  Council  well  this  path  have  trod, 

Ilonor's  immortal  wreath  securing, 
They've  dipped  their  hatchets  in  the  blood, 

The  patriot  blood  of  Mat  Van  Buren. 

He  bears,  as  every  hero  ought, 

The  mandate  of  the  powers  that  rule, 
lie' a  higher  game  in  view,  'tis  thought, 

All  in  good  time ;  (the  man 's  no  fool), 
With  him,  some  dozens  prostrate  fall, 

No  friend  to  mourn,  nor  foe  to  flout  them, 
They  die  unsung,  unwept  by  all, 

For  no  one  cares  a  sous  about  them. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  demo 
crats,  including  Mr.  Van  Buren,  engaged 
in  one  of  those  party  compromise  ma 
noeuvres  to  which  we  have  alluded,  in 
the  election  of  Mr.  Rufus  King,  an  old 
federalist,  to  the  Senate.  In  support 
of  this  measure,  Mr.  Van  Buren  wrote 
and  published,  in  -conjunction  with  the 
late  Governor  Marcy,  a  pamphlet  enti 
tled  "  Considerations  in  favor  of  the 
appointment  of  Rufus  King  to  the  Se 
nate  of  the  United  States."  In  the 
great  question  of  the  day,  in  which  Mr. 
King  bore  so  prominent  a  part,  the 
admission  of  Missouri  into  the  Union, 
Mr.  Van  Buren  concurred  with  the 
Senate  in  its  instructions  to  the  State 
representatives  at  Washington,  to  insist 
upon  the  prohibition  of  slavery.  His 
service  in  this  body  ended  with  the  ex 
piration  of  his  second  term,  in  18*20, 
when  he  was  not  a  candidate  for  reelec 
tion.  In  February  of  the  following 
year  he  was  chosen  by  the  legislature 
Senator  of  the  United  States.  In  the 
same  year  he  was  also  elected  a  mem- 


124: 


MARTIN    VAN    BUREN. 


ber  of  the  convention  to  revise  the  con 
stitution  of  the  State,  from  Otsego 
County,  his  party  not  being  strong 
enough  to  return  him  from  his  own  dis 
trict.  When  this  important  body  met 
he  took  an  active  part  in  its  delibera 
tions,  advocating  generally  a  medium 
course  of  reform.  On  one  of  the  pro 
minent  subjects  under  discussion,  the 
extension  of  the  right  of  suffrage,  he 
was  in  favor  of  a  relaxation  of  the  old 
system,  but  stopped  short  of  universal 
suffrage.  That  was  a  measure  of  an 
after  day.  He  was  opposed  to  the  con 
tinuance  of  the  Council  of  Revision,  and 
in  favor  of  the  substitute  for  its  check 
upon  hasty  legislation,  of  the  veto 
power  of  the  governor.  He  favored  the 
direct  choice  of  officers  of  government 
by  the  people,  with  some  reservations, 
however,  which,  adopted  at  the  time, 
have  been  subsequently  removed.  His 
course  was  thus  politic,  and,  in  a  mea 
sure,  conservative. 

The  convention  concluded  its  sit 
tings  in  time  for  Mr.  Van  Buren  to 
take  his  seat,  at  the  opening  of  the  win 
ter  session  of  the  Senate  at  Washing 
ton,  by  the  side  of  his  colleague  Rufus 
King.  His  reputation  being  now  well 
established,  he  was  at  once  charged 
with  important  duties  as  a  member  of 
the  committees  of  finance  and  the  judi 
ciary.  One  of  the  topics  which  early 
engaged  his  attention  was  the  abolition 
of  imprisonment  for  debt  in  the  process 
of  the  United  States  Courts,  unless  in 
certain  cases  of  fraud — an  amelioration 
of  the  statutes  of  the  olden  time,  which 
he  had  already  advocated  in  the  State 
jurisprudence  at  Albany.  He  also  pro 
posed  amendments  to  the  judiciary  sys 


tem,  and  was  a  prominent  speaker  in 
the  discussion  of  a  bill  establishing  a 
uniform  system  of  bankruptcy. 

On  the  occession  of  Mr.  Adams  in 
1825  Mr.  Van  Buren,  who  had  already 
attached  himself  to  the  fortunes  of 
Jackson,  was  enrolled  in  the  number 
of  the  President's  opponents.  Among 
other  measures  of  the  Administration, 
the  proposed  Panama  mission  drew 
forth  his  determined  opposition. 

In  1827  he  was  •  reflected  to  the 
Senate  by  a  decisive  vote  of  the  New 
York  State  Legislature,  but  he  had 
little  more  than  entered  on  the  new 
term,  when  he  was  chosen,  on  the  death 
of  De  Witt  Clinton,  who  expired  sud 
denly  while  in  office,  Governor  of  New 
York.  He  consequently  resigned  his 
seat  in  the  Senate  and  began  his  new 
course  of  duties  in  January,  1829. 

Mr.  Van  Buren  had  not  been  long  at 
Albany,  in  his  seat  as  governor,  when, 
on  the  entrance  of  Jackson  upon  the 
Presidency  in  1829,  he  was  called  to 
the  high  office,  directly,  according  to 
the  old.  precedents  in  the  line  of  suc 
cession,  of  Secretary  of  State.  He  held 
this  for  two  years,  when  political  hos 
tilities  having  grown  rife  in  the  cabinet, 
a  dissolution  seemed  inevitable,  and, 
"  convinced  that  the  success  of  the  ad 
ministration,  and  his  own  prospects  for 
the  future,  demanded  his  retirement 
from  a  position  so  unpleasant,  he  led 
the  way  by  a  voluntary  resignation  of 
the  office  which  he  held." l 

Mr.  Van  Buren  retired  during  the 
recess  of  Congress  in  April,  1831,  and 
was  immediately  appointed  by  the 

J  Jenkins'  Van  Buren.    Governors  of  New  York,  p.  4/14. 


MARTIN    VAN    BUREN. 


125 


Piv-i<l«'nt  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to 
Great  Britain.  lie  accepted  the  posi 
tion,  the  duties  of  which  were  not  alto 
gether  disconnected  from  those  of  his 
late  office,  so  far  as  they  related  to  the 
settlement  of  open  questions  with  KMLT- 
land,  which  he  had  already  had  in  hand. 
He  reached  London  in  September,  and 
was  received  with  every  attention  by 
the  government.  Before,  however,  he 
was  well  seated,  his  appointment,  on 
being  submitted  to  the  Senate,  was  re 
jected  by  that  body,  on  the  ostensible 
ground  of  certain  instructions,  in  refer 
ence  to  tlje  trade  with  the  West  Indies, 
which  he  had  forwarded,  when  Secre 
tary  of  State,  to  the  previous  minister, 
Mr.  McLane.  The  political  constitu 
tion  of  the  Senate,  which  was  now  ar 
raying  its  forces,  may  be  presumed  to 
have  had  more  to  do  with  the  rejection, 
which  was  decided  against  the  appoint 
ment  by  the  casting  vote  of  the  Vice- 
President,  Mr.  Calhoun. 

That  act,  it  was  often  said,  made  Mr. 
Van  Buren  President.  He  was  the 
victim  of  an  opposition  vote,  and  was 
ruthlessly  thrown  out  from  an  honor 
able  office  which  he  was  well  qualified 
to  discharge.  This,  at  least,  was  the 
view  of  the  Democratic  party,  and  the 
friends  of  the  President,  who  continued 
to  give  him  his  support.  Consequently 
when  General  Jackson  was  nominated 
for  reelection,  it  was  with  Martin  Van 
Buren  on  the  ticket  for  Vice-President. 
Both  were  chosen  by  a  decided  major 
ity,  the  vote  being  the  same,  with  the 
exception  of  that  of  Pennsylvania, 
which,  in  consequence  of  Mr.  Van  Bu- 
ren's  anti-protectionist  views,  was  with 
held  from  him. 


As  the  presiding  officer  of  the  Sen 
ate,  during  the  stormy  period  of  Jack 
son's  second  term,  the  new  Vice-Presi- 
dent,  by  his  parliamentary  experience, 
unwearied  attention,  and  that  polished 
courtesy  which  always  characterized 
his  bearing,  won  golden  opinions  from 
all  parties.  He  was  the  devoted  sup- 
porter  of  the  measures  of  the  Presi 
dent  in  this  active  period,  which  wit 
nessed  the  overthrow  of  the  United 
States  Bank,  the  decided  stand  taken 
with  regard  to  nullification  in  South 
Carolina,  and  the  indemnity  negotia 
tion  with  Louis  Philippe.  The  reign 
of  Jacksonism,  as  it  was  sometimes 
called,  became  fully  established,  and 
Mr.  Van  Buren  succeeded  to  the  re 
tiring  chieftain  as  his  rightful  political 
heir.  He  was  nominated  to  the  Presi 
dency  at  Baltimore,  in  May,  1835,  and 
in  the  ensuing  election  of  the  following 

o 

year  was  chosen  by  a  majority  of  forty- 
six  votes  over  all  other  candidates. 

His  inauguration,  on  the  4th  of 
March,  1837,  was  duly  celebrated  ac 
cording  to  custom,  by  the  delivery  of 
an  address,  and  administration  of  the 
oath  at  the  portico  of  the  Capitol.  The 
day  was  a  very  finer  one,  as  the  new 
President  was  driven  to  the  spot,  seated 
alongside  of  the  retiring  incumbent,  in 
a  phaeton  made  of  the  wood  of  the 
frigate  Constitution,  which  had  been 
presented  to  General  Jackson  by  the 
democracy  of  New  York.  The  address 
was  chiefly  a  eulogy  on  the  success  of 
the  Government  in  its  triumph  over  all 
previous  obstacles.  The  agitation  of 
the  slavery  question  was  pointedly  al 
luded  to  and  deprecated  in  earnest 
terms.  The  speaker  renewed  his 


126 


MARTIN    VAN    BUREN. 


pledge  as  "the  inflexible  and  uncom 
promising  opponent  of  every  attempt 
on  the  part  of  Congress  to  abolish 
slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia, 
against  the  wishes  of  the  slaveholding 
States ;  and  also  his  determination, 
equally  decided,  to  resist  the  slightest 
interference  with  it  in  the  States  where 
it  exists." 

In  the  selection  of  his  Cabinet,  Mr. 
Van  Buren  retained  those  who  held 
office  under  the  late  administration,  in 
cluding  John  Forsyth,  of  Georgia,  in 
the  State  Department ;  Levi  Woodbury, 
of  New  Hampshire,  in  the  Treasury; 
Amos  Kendall  in  the  Post  Office,  and 
Benjamin  F.  Butler  as  Attorney-Gene 
ral.  Mr.  Poinsett,  of  South  Carolina, 
was  appointed  in  the  War  Department 
to  succeed  General  Cass,  who  proceeded 
as  Minister  to  France.  The  bureau  of 
administration  thus  organized,  the  gov 
ernment  with  an  established,  recog 
nized  policy,  appeared  to  have  an  easy 
course  before  it.  There  was,  however, 
a  cloud  rising  which  soon  burst  upon 
the  country.  The  difficulty  arose  from 
the  banks  out  of  the  plethora  of 
the  public  treasury.  A  large  surplus 
had  accumulated  in  the  State  banks, 
which  were  the  substitutes  of  the 
former  national  institution,  which  was 
now  to  be  divided  among  the  States. 
Credit  had  been  stimulated,  paper 
money  had  been  expanded,  and  the 
result  was  now  the  contraction,  memo 
rable  in  our  commercial  annals,  of  the 
year  1837.  The  banks  suspended  spe 
cie  payments,  millions  of  value  were 
depreciated,  and  the  whole  system  of 
trade  and  industry  seemed  in  utter 
wreck  and  ruin.  An  extra  session  of 


Congress  was  called  in  September,  to 
take  into  consideration  the  state  of 
affairs  in  relation  to  the  public  credit. 
A  message  from  the  President  proposed 
the  remedy  which,  known  under  the 
name  of  the  Sub-Treasury,  has  passed 
into  an  established  feature  of  the  gov 
ernment  unquestioned  in  party  con 
flicts.  The  Independent  Treasury  Bill, 
which  thus  separated  the  financial  af 
fairs  of  the  State  from  all  banks  what 
soever,  making  the  care  of  the  gold  and 
silver  paid  for  duties,  a  simple  matter 
of  safe  keeping,  under  the  charge  of 
certain  officers,  met  at  the  outset  with 
considerable  opposition.  It  passed  the 
Senate  in  this  extra  session  but  was  de 
feated  in  the  House  of  Representatives. 
The  same  fate  attended  it  in  the  next 
regular  session.  It  did  not  become  a 
law  till  the  last  year  of  Mr.  Van 
Buren's  Presidential  term,  in  1840.  It 
was  undoubtedly  the  most  important 
event  of  his  administration. 

The  foreign  policy  of  the  country 
was  conducted  with  ability  during  this 
period.  Two  questions  of  some  im 
portance  arose  in  these  connections,  one 
in  relation  to  Texas,  the  other  regard 
ing  the  management  of  the  frontier 
difficulties  with  Great  Britain.  In 
respect  to  the  former,  which  came  up  on 
the  proposition  for  the  annexation  of 
Texas  to  the  Union,  the  President  was 
opposed  to  the  measure.  He  thought 
the  independence  of  that  State  had  not 
been  fully  recognized  by  the  United 
States,  and  that  to  enter  upon  annex 
ation  would  be,  as  the  event  proved,  to 
encounter  hostilities  with  Mexico,  with 
which  country  he  desired  to  maintain 
peace.  In  the  Maine  Boundary  Question 


MARTIN    VAN    BUREN. 


127 


and  the  Niagara  frontier  disturbances 
he  pursued  a  firm  and  equable  policy, 
protecting  the  rights  of  the  country 
and  checking  the  lawless  spirit  which 
had  been  aroused  within  our  own  bor 
ders. 

In  the  election  of  1840  Mr.  Van 
Buren  was  again  the  candidate  of  his 
paily,  in  a  canvass  in  which  he  suffered 
an  overwhelming  defeat.  The  country, 
depressed  by  the  financial  crisis  from 
which  it  had  not  yet  recovered,  was 
bent  upon  political  change.  General 
Harrison,  a  popular  hero  of  the  West 
was  nominated  by  the  Whigs  and  borne 
into  office  by  a  triumphant  vote.  He 
received  two  hundred  and  thirty-four 
electoral  votes  against  the  sixty  of  Pre 
sident  Van  Buren.  The  administration 
of  the  latter  being  thus  ended,  he  re1 
tired  from  Washington  on  the  accession 
of  the  new  President,  to  his  old  home 
at  Kinderhook,  where  he  had  purchased 
an  estate  which  had  belonged  to  the  late 
Judge  Van  Ness,  to  which  he  gave  the 
name  .Linden wold.  In  1844  his  friends 
.•lira in  brought  him  forward  as  a  candi 
date  for  the  Presidency,  and  an  earnest 
effort  was  made  for  his  nomination  in  the 
national  convention  of  his  party  at  Bal 
timore.  It  might  have  been  obtained 
for  him  but  for  a  letter  which  he  wrote 
in  favor  of  deferring  the  annexation  of 
Texas  till  the  consent  of  Mexico  should 
be  obtained.  Something  more  decided 
was  required  by  the.  convention  on  this 
point,  and  the  nomination  was  given  to 
Mr.  Polk,  who  was  less  scrupulous  in 
regard  to  the  measure.  Mr.  Van  Buren, 
true  to  the  party  organization,  which 
he  had  done  so  much  to  aid  in  previous 
days,  gave  an  influential  support  to  the 


democratic  candidate,  and  on  his  elec 
tion,  was  tendered  the  mission  to  Eng 
land,  which  he  declined.  Four  years 
now  elapsed,  and  1848  brought  round 
again  the  recurring  struggle  for  the 
Presidency.  A  division  had  arisen  in 
the  ranks  of  the  democracy  in  the  State 
of  New  York,  involving  the  question 
of  the  introduction  of  slavery  into  the 
new  territory  acquired  from  Mexico. 
Two  delegations  were  sent  from  rival 
factions  to  the  nominating  convention 
of  the  party  at  Baltimore.  In  the  poli 
tical  nomenclature  of  the  day  one  bore 
the  name  of  Hunkers,  the  other  of  Barn 
burners.  The  latter,  which  represented 
the  interests  of  Mr.  Van  Buren,  was  in 
favor  of  freedom  in  the  territories.  Re 
solutions  were  passed  in  the  conven 
tion  admitting  both  delegations,  upon 
which  the  Barnburners  retired.  The 
faction  of  the  latter  then  held  a  con- 
vention  of  their  own  at  Utica,  at  which 
Mr.  Van  Buren  was  nominated  as  an 
independent  democratic  candidate  of 
the  Free  Soil  party,  as  it  began  to  be 
called.  General  Cass  was  the  regular 
nominee  at  Baltimore,  and  General  Tay 
lor  of  the  Whigs.  The  result  of  the 
election  was  a  Free  Soil  popular  vote  for 
Van  Buren,  chiefly  drawn  from  New 
York,  which  gave  him  over  120,000; 
Massachusetts,  38,058 ;  Ohio,  over 
35,000;  Illinois,  nearly  16,000;  Penn 
sylvania,  about  11,000 — an  aggregate 
of  291,378.  General  Cass  received 
1,233,795  votes ;  General  Taylor's  votes 
exceeded  this  by  138,447.  Mr.  Van 
Buren  did  not  receive  the  electoral  vote 
of  a  single  State. 

Mr.  Van  Buren,  "  a  passive  instru 
ment  'var  the  hands  of  his  old  and  de- 


128 


MARTIN    YAN    BUREN. 


voted  friends,"  appears  to  have  been 
little  concerned  at  the  result.  It  was 
not  his  humor  or  his  character.  He 
had  seen  enough  of  party  not  to  be 
greatly  affected  by  its  decisions,  and  he 
had,  moreover,  reached  an  age  of  honor 
able,  well-earned  repose,  which  his 
habits  of  study  and  reflection,  a  certain 
philosophic  temper,  and  his  happy 
family  relations  disposed  him  to  enjoy. 
The  retirement  of  Mr.  Van  Buren's 
latter  days  was  varied  by  a  visit  to 
Europe,  undertaken  for  his  health  in 
1853.  There  he  remained  for  more 
than  a  year,  visiting  various  countries 
and  enjoying  such  attention  as  befitted 
the  elevated  career  in  which  he  had. 
moved.  On  his  return  his  time  was 
chiefly  passed  at  his  estate  of  Linden- 
wold,  among  the  scenes  of  his  child 
hood,  in  Columbia  County,  varied  by 
an  occasional  visit  to  New  York.  An 
asthmatic  affection  was  gradually  grow 
ing  upon  him,  which  increased  in  inten 
sity,  and  finally  brought  him  to  his  end. 
His  death  occurred  on  the  24th  of  July, 
1862,  in  the  midst  of  the  great  political 
and  social  revolution,  which  in  the 
storm  of  civil  war  was  shaking  the 
land  to  its  foundations.  In  the  public 
honors  which  were  paid  to  his  memory 
the  association  was  not  forgotten.  Pre 
sident  Lincoln,  in  a  national  tribute  of 
respect,  announced  his  death  to  the 
country.  "  This  event,"  was  the  lan 
guage  of  his  Proclamation,  "  will  occa 
sion  mourning  in  the  nation  for  the  loss 
of  a  citizen  and  a  public  servant  whose 
memory  will  be  gratefully  cherished. 
Although  it  has  occurred  at  a  time 
when  his  country  is  afflicted  with  divi 
sion  and  civil  war,  the  grief  of  his  patri 


otic  friends  will  measurably  be  assuaged 
by  the  consciousness  that,  while  suffer 
ing  with  disease,  and  seeing  his  end 
approaching,  his  prayers  were  for  the 
restoration  of  the  authority  of  the 
Government  of  which  he  had  been  the 
head,  and  for  peace  and  good-will 
among  his  fellow-citizens.  As  a  mark 
of  respect  for  his  memory,  it  is  ordered 
that  the  Executive  Mansion  and  the 
several  Executive  Departments,  except 
ing  those  of  the  War  and  Navy,  be  im 
mediately  placed  in  mourning,  and  all 
business  be  suspended  during  to-mor 
row.  It  is  further  ordered  that  the 
War  and  Navy  Departments  cause  suit 
able  military  and  naval  honors  to  be 
paid  on  this  occasion  to  the  memory  of 
the  illustrious  dead."  The  courts  of 
New  York  paid  their  eulogies  to  the 
man  and  his  active  influential  life. 

The  funeral  services  were  performed 
at  the  Dutch  Church,  in  the  village  of 
Kinderhook,  in  the  presence  of  a  large 
gathering  of  friends  and  neighbors, 
when  a  discourse  befitting  the  occa 
sion  was  delivered  by  a  friend  of  the 
deceased,  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  Romeyn  Berry, 
in  which  a  stirring  incentive  to  patriot 
ism,  rendered  doubly  impressive  by  the 
national  crisis,  was  a  prominent  topic. 

Mr.  Van  Buren  had  been  long  a 
widower,  his  wife  having  died  in  1818, 
twelve  years  after  their  marriage,  leav 
ing  him  a  family  of  four  sons,  Abraham, 
John,  Martin,  and  Smith  Thompson. 
Mr.  John  Van  Buren  is  well  known  as 
an  eminent  legal  practitioner  in  New 
York,  and  more  widely  of  late  by  his 
active  participation  in  the  political 
movements  of  the  day. 

The  more  prominent  characteristics 


MARTIN    VAX     UUIKN. 


129 


of  Mr.  Van  Buren  have  been  delicately 
touched  liy  a  son  of  one  of  his  most 
devoted  friends,  Mr.  William  Allen  But 
ler,  in  an  interesting  obituary  sketch 
of  the  "  Lawyer,  Statesman  and  Man." 
"  In  his  personal  traits,"  says  he,  "  Mr. 
Van  Buren  was  marked  by  a  rare  indi 
viduality,  lie  was  a  gentleman,  and 
he  cultivated  the  society  of  gentlemen. 
He  never  had  any  associates  who  were 
vul«rar  or  vicious.  He  affected  the 

o 

companionship  of  men  of  letters, 
though  I  think  his  conclusion  was 
that  they  are  apt  to  make  poor  poli 
ticians  and  not  the  best  of  friends. 
AY  here  he  acquired  that  peculiar  neat 
ness  and  polish  of  manners  which  he 
wore  so  lightly,  and  which  served 
every  turn  of  domestic,  social,  and 
public  intercourse,  I  do  not  know.  It 
could  hardly  be  called  natural,  al 
though  it  seemed  so  natural  in  him. 
It  was  not  put  on,  for  it  never  was  put 
off.  As  you  saw  him  once  you  saw 
him  always — always  punctilious,  al 
ways  polite,  always  cheerful,  always 
self-possessed.  It  seemed  to  any  one 
who  studied  this  phase  of  his  character 
as  if,  in  some  early  moment  of  destiny, 
his  whole  nature  had  been  bathed  in  a 
cool,  clear  and  unruffled  depth,  from 
which  it  drew  this  life-long  serenity 
and  self-control.  It  was  another  of 

17 


the  charges  against  him  that  he  was 
no  Democrat.  lie  dn^srd  loo  well,  he 
lived  too  well,  the  company  In-  kept 
was  too  good,  his  tastes  were  too  re 
fined,  his  tone  was  too  elegant.  So  far 
as  democracy  is  supposed  to  have  an 
elective  affinity  for  dirt,  this  was  all 
true ;  he  was  no  Democrat  in  taste  or 
feeling,  and  he  never  pretended  to 
be.  ...  As  to  the  elements  of  the 
widest  popularity,  they  were  not  in 
him.  He  never  inspired  enthusiasm, 
as  Jackson  did,  or  Henry  Clay.  The 
masses  accepted  him  as  a  leader,  but 
they  never  worshipped  him  as  a 
hero.  .  .  .  Mr.  Van  Buren  has 
left  memoirs,  partly  finished.  If  his 
reminiscences  can  be  given  to  the 
world  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  giving 
them  to  his  friends,  in  all  the  fresh 
ness  of  familiar  intercourse,  they  will  be 
most  attractive.  There  was  a  charm 
about  his  conversation  when  it  turned 
on  the  incidents  of  his  personal  experi 
ence  which  could  hardly  be  transferred 
to  the  printed  page,  so  much  of  its 
interest  depended  on  manner  and  ex 
pression.  Mr.  Van  Buren  had  no  wit, 
but  he  had  humor,  and  a  keen  sense 
for  the  humorous,  and  he  could  repro 
duce  with  rare  fidelity  whatever  in  the 
actions  or  the  character  of  men  he  had 
i  thought  worth  remembering." 


WILLIAM   HENRY    HARRISON. 


THE  Virginia  Harrison  family,  of 
which  the  President  of  the  United 
States  was  descended,  is  traced  to  a 
colonial  ancestor  in  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  A  son  of  this 
early  inhabitant  gave  birth  to  Benja 
min  Harrison,  who  established  the  line 
at  the  family  seat  at  Berkeley,  Charles 
City  County,  on  James  River.  He  was 
a  lawyer,  speaker  of  the  House  of 
Burgesses,  and  much  esteemed  in  the 
colony,  where  he  exercised  a  liberal 
influence  by  his  virtues  and  hospitali 
ty.  His  grandson  of  the  same  name 
was  the  signer  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  and  father  of  the  Presi 
dent. 

The  family  had  always  taken  an 
active  part  in  public  affairs,  propor 
tioned  to  its  growing  wealth  and  im 
portance,  and  the  young  Benjamin, 
who  was  early  left  to  the  care  of  the 
estate,  was  not  disposed  to  avoid  this 
responsibility.  He  took  his  seat  in  the 
House  of  Burgesses,  before  he  reached 
the  legal  age,  and  became  at  once 
marked  out  by  his  firmness  and  ability 
as  a  political  leader.  He  was  one  of 
the  committee  appointed  in  1*764  to 
prepare  an  address  to  the  king,  and 
memorials  to  parliament  on  the  resolu 
tions  of  the  House  of  Commons,  prepa 
ratory  to  the  Stamp  Act.  When  the 


first  independent  convention  of  dele 
gates  met  at  Williamsburgh,  ten  years 
afterward,  when  the  mismanagement 
of  parliament  had  ripened  the  country 
for  revolt,  he  was  sent  a  member  of  the 
first  Continental  Congress,  which  met 
in  Philadelphia.  He  was  also  a  mem 
ber  of  the  second  Virginia  assembly  of 
delegates  at  Richmond  in  1*7*75,  which 
took  the  active  measures  placing  the 
county  in  a  state  of  self-defence  and 
resistance.  He  at  first  regarded  these 
steps  as  premature,  but  speedily  acqui 
esced  in  the  vote  of  the  House.  He 
was  again  returned  to  the  second  and 
more  important  General  Congress  at 
Philadelphia.  An  anecdote  is  related 
of  him  at  this  time  in  connection  with 
John  Hancock.  When  the  spirited 
Boston  leader  showed  some  reluctance 
or  diffidence  in  accepting  the  Presi 
dency  on  the  retirement  of  Peyton 
Randolph,  Harrison,  who  was  standing 
by  him,  is  said  to  have  seized  him 
in  his  arms  and  placed  him  bodily 
in.  the  chair,  with  the  exclamation, 
"We  will  show  Mother  Britain  how 
little  we  care  for  her,  by  making  a 
Massachusetts  man  our  president,  whom 
she  has  excluded  from  pardon  by  a 
public  proclamation."  *  Another  story 


1  Life   of-  Harrison.     Sanderson's    Biography  of   the 
Sigr  3rs. 

130 


ffrtgina/ peu/itiny  /v  /#.////•/  .v  '//•/', 


WILLIAM    HENRY    HARRISON. 


131 


is  narrated  involving  a  similar  allusion 
t<»  liis  powerful  figure,  in  his  remark  to 
Elbrklge  Gerry,  his  very  opposite,  in  a 
slender,  spare  person,  at  the  signing  of 
the  Declaration.  "  When  the  hanging 
scene  conies  to  be  exhibited,"  said  Har 
rison,  as  he  raised  his  pen  from  the 
instrument,  "  I  shall  have  all  the  ad 
vantage  over  you.  It  will  be  over 
with  me  in  a  minute,  but  you  will  be 
kicking  in  the  air  half  an  hour  after  I 
am  gone."  Anecdotes  like  these,  of 
such  a  man,  show  no  levity  of  disposi 
tion  in  conflict  with  the  serious  duties 
in  which  he  was  employed,  but  they 
do  show  an  animation  and  good  heart 
in  the  cause  which  needed  every  sup 
port  of  physical  temperament  as  well 
as  mental  resolve.  Our  fathers  fought 
with  cheerfulness  as  well  as  resolution. 

Harrison  continued  in  Congress  ac 
tively  employed  in  its  various  employ 
ments  till  the  close  of  1777,  when  he 
only  transferred  his  political  duties  to 
his  native  State.  He  was  speaker  of 
the  House  of  Burgesses  till  1782,  in 
cluding  the  disastrous  period  of  the 
invasion  of  Virginia,  and  was  then 
twice  elected  governor.  He  was  again 
called  from  private  life  to  sit  in  the 
State  Convention,  of  the  Constitution, 
to  which  he  gave  his  influential  sup; 
port,  and  was  more  or  less  engaged  in 
public  life  to  his  death,  in  1791. 

William  Henry  Harrison  was  his 
third  son.  He  was  born  at  Berkeley, 
the  family  residence,  February  9, 1773 ; 
so  that  he  came  into  the  field  of  active 
life  with  the  new  generation  which 
succeeded  the  Revolutionary  era.  His 
education  was  well  provided  for  under 
the  care  of  the  family  friend,  the  finan 


cier  Robert  Morris,  and  at 
Sidney  College  in  Virginia,  whence  he 
turned  to  the  study  of  medicine,  lie 
had  acquired  some  knowledge  of  the 
profession  in  the  office  of  a  physician 
of  Richmond,  and  was  about  to  pursue 
his  studies  with  the  celebrated  Doctor 
Rush,  at  Philadelphia,  when  his  father's 
death  occurred,  and,  with  some  reluc 
tance  on  the  part  of  his  family,  he 
chose  for  himself  a  military  life.  lie 
was  aided  by  General  Henry  Lee  in 
obtaining  a  commission  as  ensign  in 
the  1st  regiment  of  United  States  in 
fantry,  and  as  the  government  had 
then  an  Indian  war  on  its  hands  in  the 
Western  Territory,  he  at  once,  at  the 
age  of  nineteen,  found  himself  engaged 
in  active  service.  Passing  but  a  few 
days  in  Philadelphia,  he  hastened  to 
his  regiment,  stationed  at  fort  Wash 
ington,  the  site  of  the  present  Cincin 
nati,  where  he  joined  the  remains  of  the 
broken  forces  of  St.  Clair,  just  escaped 
from  the  disastrous  engagement  at  the 
Miami  villages.  It  was  thus  that  he 
was  introduced  to  a  region  with  which 
he  became  thoroughly  identified,  and 
his  popularity  in  which,  long  after  the 
scenes  of  war  were  over,  carried  him 
triumphantly  into  the-  Presidential 
chair. 

The  ill  fortune  which  had  befallen 
St.  Clair  was  calculated  to  rouse  the 
warlike  spirit  of  the  generous  youth ; 
and  it  had  its  lesson  of  caution  and 
preparation  in  dealing  w^ith  the  In 
dians,  which  was  not  lost  upon  subse 
quent  campaigns.  When  Major-Gene- 
ral  Wayne  took  the  field,  in  the  sum 
mer  of  1793,  Harrison,  now  holding 
the  rank  of  lieutenant  in  his  regiment, 


132 


WILLIAM    HENRY    HARRISON. 


was  appointed  his  aid.  In  the  brilliant 
engagement  at  the  Rapids  of  the  Miami, 
he  distinguished  himself  by  his  valor, 
and  secured  from  Wayne  special  men 
tion  in  his  dispatch  of  the  victory,  as 
*'  one  who  rendered  the  most  essential 
service,  by  communicating  my  orders 
in  every  direction,  and  by  his  conduct 
and  bravery  exciting  the  troops  to 
press  for  victory."  The  battle  on  the 
Miamis  was  fought  August  20,  1*794, 
and  a  year  afterward,  with  various  in 
termediate  demonstrations  and  negoti 
ations  brought  forth  its  peaceable 
fruits  in  Wayne's  treaty  of  Greenville, 
which  closed  the  war. 

Harrison  was  then,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three,  with  the  rank  of  Captain, 
placed  in  command  of  Fort  Washing 
ton,  where  he  about  the  same  time,  was 
married  to  the  daughter  of  John  Cleves 
Symines,  whose  name  is  so  honorably 
distinguished  in  the  history  of  the 
western  settlements,  and  particularly 
as  the  founder  of  Cincinnati.  The 
young  officer  held  this  post  till  1797, 
when  he  sent  in  his  resignation,  with 
the  intention  thereafter,  says  his  bio 
grapher,  Montgomery,  "  of  devoting  his 
time  to  the  peaceful  and  more  conge 
nial  pursuits  of  agriculture."  He  was 
speedily,  however,  withdrawn  from 
these  quiet  anticipations  to  public  du 
ties,  in  his  appointment  by  President 
Adams  as  secretary  of  the  Northwest 
Territory,  then  under  the  government 
of  St.  Clair.  When  the  Territory  be 
came  organized,  and  was  qualified  to 
send  a  delegate  to  Congress,  Harrison 
was  chosen  its  first  representative  in 
1799.  He  distinguished  himself  in  this 
body  by  his  activity  and  success  in  secur- 


|  ing  to  settlers  the  privilege  of  purchas- 
I  ing  the  public  lands  in  small  quantities, 
and  in  measures  favoring  their  preemp 
tion  rights  and  modes  of  payment. 

On   the   division   of  the   Territory, 
Harrison   was   withdrawn    from   Con 
gress  to  discharge  the  duties  of  the  first 
governor  of  the  newly  formed  Territory 
of  Indiana,  which  included  the  present 
States  of  Indiana,  Illinois,  Michigan, 
and  Wisconsin.     This  was  in  1801,  and 
the   whole   region    now   so    populous 
numbered  only  five  thousand  people, 
scattered  over  the  whole  country,  ex 
posed  to  the  dangers  of  frontier  life 
and  the  unsettled   relations  with  the 
Indians.     "  With  such  difficulties,"  says 
his  biographer,  "  it  was  no  less  a  mat 
ter  of  duty  than  of  necessity  that  he 
should  be   clothed  with   the   amplest 
independent   powers.     Amongst  those 
of  a  civil  as  well  as  political  nature 
conferred  upon  him  were  those  jointly 
with  those  of  the  judges,  of  the  legisla 
tive  functions  of  the  Territory,  the  ap 
pointment  of  all  the  civil  officers  within 
the  Territory,  and  all  the  military  offi 
cers  of  a  grade  inferior  in  rank  to  that 
of  general;  commander-in-chief  of  the 
militia ;  the  absolute  and  uncontrolled 
power  of  pardoning  all  offences;   sole 
commissioner  of  treaties  with  the  In 
dians  with  unlimited  powers,  and  the 
power  of  conferring,  at  his  option,  all 
grants  of  lands."     Harrison  held  this 
proconsular  office  for  sixteen  years,  dur 
ing  which  he  saw  the  country  steadily 
increasing  in  strength  and  prosperity  ; 
though  his  career,  experienced  and  pru 
dent  as  it  was,  proved  not  without  dif 
ficulties   with   the   Indians,   rising    at 
length  to  open  warfare. 


WILLIAM    HENRY    HARRISON. 


133 


Tlie  stniii^le,  known  as  the  battle  of 
Tippecanoe,  which  took  place  on  the 
seventh  of  November,  1811,  involved 
various  elements  of  preparation  on  the 
part  of  the  savages,  some  of  which  im 
part  to  their  conduct  of  the  war  an  inte 
rest  with  which  there  will  always  be  a 
certain  degree  of  sympathy.  The  effort 
of  a  fulling  race  to  regain  its  authority 
under  a  leader  like  Tecumseh,  assisted 
1>\  the  fanaticism  of  his  brother  the 
Prophet,  is  raised  o'ut  of  the  rank  of  the 
ordinary  Indian  fighting  propensities. 
The.  Indian  chief  was  a  hero  of  no  ordi 
nary  class.  To  the  virtues  of  the  war 
rior  in  arms,  he  united  many  of  those 
moral  qualities  so  powerful  in  strength 
ening  the  courage  of  the  soldier.  lie 
was  self-denying,  forbearing,  and  even 
compassionate.  Born  in  the  centre  of 
Ohio,  he  represented  the  races  immedi 
ately  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  whom 
lie  appears  early  to  have  sought  to 
unite  against  the  whites.  Consistently 
with  his  character  for  sincerity  he  de 
clined  to  attend  Wayne's  council  of 
•e  at  Greenville.  His  great  effort 
was  to  bring  the  scattered  tribes  to  act 
in  concert.  For  this  purpose  he  estab 
lished,  in  1808,  an  Indian  settlement  at 
the  Tippecanoe  River,  a  tributary  of  the 
Wabash,  in  Indiana,  whither,  with  the 
aid  of  the  Prophet,  he  brought  together 
a  considerable  number  of  recruits  to 
his  mingled  political  and  superstitious 
teaching. 

The  "Wabash  Prophet,"  as  he  was 
called,  was  at  first  considered  a  simple 
visionary.  Jefferson,  then  in  the  Presi 
dency,  took  this  view  of  him,  and  thought 
little  harm  would  come  of  his  preaching 
the  simple  austerities  of  their  forefathers 


to  a  race  not  remarkably  disposed  to  ab 
stinence  and  self-denial  His  success, 
however,  and  the  activity  and  declara 
tions  of  Tecumseh,  with  the  imminent 
English  war  at  hand,  aroused  the  anxie 
ties  of  the  people  of  the  Territory,  and 
when  positive  ground  was  taken  by  the 
Indian  leader  at  the  conference  of  Vin- 
ceunes  against  the  progress  of  the  treat 
ies  by  which  Harrison  was  extending 
the  authority  of  the  whites,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  assume  a  decided  mi 
litary  stand.  The  governor  therefore  at 
length,  in  October,  1811,  advanced  hia 
forces,  composed  of  regulars  and  militia, 
officered  by  experienced  western  leaders, 
toward  the  Indian  settlement  presided 
over  by  the  prophet  on  the  Tippecanoe. 
Moving  forward  cautiously  with  a  force 
of  nine  hundred  men,  he  reached  a  sta 
tion  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
town,  where  a  military  encampment  was 
formed,  when  some  conferences  were 
commenced  with  the  foe.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  the  purposes  of  the  Prophet 
were  hostile.  Harrison  arranged  his 
men  in  order  to  receive  the  assault, 
which  was  made  by  the  Indians  early  on 
the  morning  of  the  seventh  of  Novem 
ber.  It  was  in  fact  a  night  attack, 
though  commenced  after  four  o'clock,  a 
drizzling  rain,  and  the  season  of  the  year 
favoring  the  darkness.  The  onset  was 
made  with  vigor,  on  all  sides  of  the 
encampment,  which  was  gallantly  de 
fended,  with  considerable  loss  of  life  by 
the  rifle  companies  at  their  several  sta 
tions.  The  camp  was  thus  resolutely 
held,  and  kept  unbroken,  till  daybreak, 
when  new  military  dispositions  were 
made,  and  ^,  charge  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet,  put  the  Indians  to  the  rout. 


134: 


WILLIAM    HEXRY    HARRISON. 


"  With  this  success,"  says  Mr.  Dawson, 
in  his  account  of  the  battle,1 "  the  engage- 

O     O 

inent  was  ended ;  both  parties  appeared 
to  have  satisfied  the  expectations  of 
their  friends.  The  steady,  undeviating 
courage  of  the  American  troops  elicited 
great  commendation ;  while  Governor 
Harrison,  speaking  of  his  savage  ene 
my,  says  '  the  Indians  manifested  a 
ferocity  uncommon  even  with  them.' 
In  this,  however,  they  were  inspirited 
by  the  religious  fanaticism  under  which 
they  acted — the  Prophet,  during  the 
action,  being  posted  on  a  neighboring 
eminence,  singing  a  war-song;  and  in 
faint  imitation  of  Moses  in  the  wilder 
ness,  directing  his  people  by  the  move 
ments  of  his  rod."  The  forces  engaged 
in  this  battle  were  probably  about 
equal.  The  Americans  lost  some  sixty 
officers  and  men  killed,  or  who  died  of 
their  wounds,  beside  the  wounded  sur 
vivors,  and  the  Indian  loss  was  sup 
posed  to  have  been  greater. 

The  attack  upon  the  American  camp 
was  urged  and  directed  in  the  absence 
of  Tecumseh,  by  the  Prophet,  who 
promised  in  virtue  of  his  soothsaying 
insight,  an  easy  victory.  The  result 
was  that  he  altogether  lost  credit  with 
the  tribes  whom  he  had  inveigled  to 
his  town  by  his  necromantic  appeals. 
When  the  battle  was  fought,  Tecumseh 

O         ' 

was  on  a  journey  to  the  Southern  In 
dians,  whom  he  was  stirring  up  to  his 
warlike  enterprises.  He  reached  the 
Wabash  on  his  return  in  time  to  wit 
ness  the  first  effects  of  the  discomfiture 
of  his  followers,  and  it  is  said,  so  great 

was  his  indignation  toward  his  brother, 

• 

*  Battles  of  the  United  States,  II.  73-81. 


the  Prophet,  that  on  his  attempting  to 
palliate  his  fool-hardy  conduct,  he  seized 
him  by  the  hair  and  threatened  his  life. 
The  disaster  had  broken  up  his  long 
entertained  hope  of  an  Indian  confede 
racy  against  the  white  man.  The  game, 
however,  was  not  quite  up  yet.  The 
desperation  of  the  Indians  was  taken 
advantage  of  by  the  British  authorities 
on  the  frontier,  to  engage  them  in  the 

/  cu    <j 

war  with  America  In  May,  1812,  Te 
cumseh  openly  joined  the  British  stand 
ard  at  Maiden.  On  the  eighteenth  of 

O 

the  following  month  war  against  Great 

O  O 

Britain  was  formally  declared  by  Con 
gress. 

O 

The  campaign  of  Hull  in  Canada, 
opened  with  brilliant  promise  in  his  in 
vasion  of  the  country,  speedily  to  be 
checked  by  his  inefficiency  and  to  ter 
minate  in  his  ignominious  surrender  of 
Detroit.  This  disaster,  of  a  sufficiently 
afflictive  character,  so  far  however,  from 
intimidating  the  western  defenders, 
called  them  to  new  exertions,  and  vo 
lunteer  forces  were  raised  in  large  mini- 

O 

bers  in  Ohio  and  Kentuckv.      There 

«/ 

was  at  first  some  conflict  of  authority 
as  to  the  command  of  the  troops  of  the 
latter  State,  which,  for  the  purpose  of 
placing  Harrison  at  their  head,  con 
ferred  upon  him  the  brevet  commission 
of  Major-General,  while  the  Secretary 
of  War,  ignorant  of  this  movement, 

/         O  ' 

assigned  the  command  to  General  Win- 

O 

chester.  The  difficulty,  however,  was 
speedily  solved  by  the  appointment  of 
General  Harrison  by  the  President,  in 
September,  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Western  Department,  when  the  left 
wing  of  the  army  was  assigned  to  Gene 
ral  Winchester.  Harrison  himself  took 


WILLIAM    HENRY    HAKKIM>\ 


135 


his  position  in  what  the  British  con- 
fcs  had  now  made  the  frontier,  the 
northerly  portion  of  Ohio  bordering  on 
Michigan,  and  made  his  headquarters 
at  Upper  Sandusky. 

The  new  year  1813,  opened  with  a 
movement  on  the  part  of  Winchester, 
now  established  at  the  rapids  of  the 
Maumee  to  protect  the  outlying  settle 
ments  in  Michigan  on  the  Raisin  River, 
a  territory  virtually  in  possession  of 
the  British.  For  this  purpose  Colonel 
L-  \vis  was  dispatched  with  a  force  over 
the  frozen  waters  of  the  adjacent  por 
tion  of  Lake  Erie  to  Frenchtown,  from 
which  the  enemy  were  driven  with 
great  gallantry.  This  action  occurred 
on  the  eighteenth  of  January.  On  the 
twenty-second,  the  victors  in  the  mean 
time  having  been  joined  by  Winchester 
witli  a  small  body  of  troops,  an  attack 
was  made  upon  the  American  position 
by  Colonel  Proctor,  who  had  issued 
forth  from  the  neighboring  Maiden, 
only  eighteen  miles  distant,  with  a  con 
siderable  party  of  royal  troops,  several 
•  s  of  artillery,  and  a  formidable 
band  of  six  hundred  Indians.  The 
camp  was  taken  unprepared ;  such  re-  j 
sistance  as  could  be  offered  at  the  mo- 1 
ment  was  made,  but  the  American 
defeat  was  complete.  Such  was  the 
cruelty  of  the  Indian  allies  and  the 
merciless  conduct  of  the  British  com 
mander,  that  the  action,  an  indelible 
disgrace  to  the  British  anus,  passes 
in  history  as  the  massacre  at  the  River 
Raisin.  Both  the  officers,  Lewis  and 
Winchester  were  captured ;  of  'about 
a  thousand  American  troops  engaged, 
but  thirty-three  escaped,  nearly  four 
hundred  were  killed  or  missing,  and 


the  rest  taken  prisoners.  General  Har 
rison,  though  he  disapproved  of  the 
more  than  questionable  attempt  at  hold 
ing  a  position  like  Frenchtown  in  the 
face  of  the  superior  foe,  did  all  that  he 
could  to  save  the  fortunes  of  the  army 
by  hastening  thither  with  recruits ;  but 
the  action  was  fought  and  the  disaster 
completed  before  he  reached  the  scene. 
All  further  onward  movements  were  of 
course,  for  'the  time,  unavailing,  and 
the  commander-in-chief  intrenched  his 
forces  at  the  Rapids  of  the  Maumee, 
constructing  there  a  fort,  named  in 
honor  of  Governor  Meigs,  of  Ohio. 

The  next  important  event  of  the  war 
in  this  quarter  was  the  attack  on  this 
fort  in  the  spring,  by  a  force  led  by 
General  Proctor,  of  over  two  thousand 
men,  more  than  one  half  of  whom  were 
Indians,  and  of  the  rest  above  five  hun 
dred  were  regulars.  He  made  good  his 
landing  on  the  river  two  miles  below 

O 

the  fort ;  but  he  had  this  time  a  more 
diligent  commander  than  Winchester  to 
encounter.  Harrison,  who  anticipated 
an  attack,  had  hastened  from  a  recruit 
ing  mission  to  Cincinnati,  to  superintend 
the  defence.  The  fort  was  defended  by 
its  elevated  position  and  the  usual  pro 
tection  of  works  of  that  kind,  of  pick 
ets  and  block  houses.  As  a  further 
protection  against  the  pieces  of  artillery 
which  the  besiegers  were  bringing  to 
bear  upon  it,  a  heavy  embankment  was 
earned  across  the  works  which  sheltered 
the  troops  from  the  enemy's  fire.  The 
batteries  of  the  assailants  were  opened 
on  the  first  of  May,  and  continued  with 
energy  for  four  days  with  little  effect, 
when  the  arrival  in  the  vicinity  of  Ken 
tucky  reinforcements  under  General 


136 


WILLIAM    HENRY   HARRISON. 


Clay,  which  Harrison  had  originally 
sent  for,  gave  the  commander  the  oppor 
tunity  to  plan  a  concerted  attack  upon 
the  besiegers.  It  was  made  by  a  sally 
from  the  fort  and  two  divisions  of 
Clay's  'troops  at  diiferent  points  with 
various  success ;  but  the  result  was  the 
virtual  discomfiture  or  defeat  of  the 
British.  The  fighting  of  that  fifth  of 
May,  proved  the  superiority  of  the  Ame 
ricans  and  a  few  days  after  the  seige  was 
abandoned. 

We  here  meet  again  with  the  Indian 
leader,  Tecunaseh,  who  proved  himself  a 
skillful  combatant  in  the  day's  work, 
and  who,  we  may  mention,  had  exhibited 
his  prowess  in  the  campaign  in  Michi 
gan  at  the  expense  of  a  detachment  of 
Hull's  command  previous  to  his  sur 
render.  A  story  of  this  chieftain's  in 
terposition  in  saving  some  of  the  pri 
soners  taken  by  the  British  in  this  action 
before  Fort  Meigs,  is  creditable  to  his 
humanity,  while  the  necessity  for  such 
interposition  adds  another  item  to  the 
fearful  account  against  Proctor  for  his 
treachery  and  cruelty  at  the  River  Rais 
in.  While  a  dispute  was  raging  be 
tween  the  Potawatamies  and  the  more 
merciful  Miamis  and  Wyandots,  as  to 
the  fate  of  the  captives,  the  work  of 
scalping  and  slaughter  having  been  al 
ready  wreaked  on  some  twenty  defence 
less  victims,  Tecurnseh  came  upon  the 
spot  nourishing  his  hatchet,  and  it  is 
said  burying  it  in  the  head  of  a  chief  en 
gaged  in  the  bloody  work,  commanded 
them,  for  shame  to  desist.  "  It  is  a  dis 
grace,"  said  he,  "to  kill  a  defenceless 
prisoner:"  and  his  order  was  obeyed.1 

1  Dawson's  Seige  of  Fort  Meigs.    Battles  of  the  United 

States. 


The  loss  of  the  Americans  in  the  seige 
and  the  action  was  greater  than  that  of 
the  British;  but  we  are  to  consider  in 
the  number  of  the  slain  those  perfidi 
ously  murdered  by  the  savage  allies  of 
the  enemy.  Proctor,  at  any  rate,  was 
unable  to  stand  before  the  American 
forces  now  thickening  around  him. 

Thus  relieved  of  the  presence  of  the 
enemy,  General  Harrison  waited  the 
effects  of  Perry's  movements  on  the 
lake  below.  Once  in  command  of  Lake 
Erie,  the  British  occupation  of  Michigan 
he  felt  would  now  be  abandoned.  The 
interim  between  this  time  and  Perry's 
victory  which  opened  the  way  to  the  ex 
pected  conquests  was  honorably  marked 
by  Major  Croghan's  gallant  defence  of 
Fort  Stephenson,  against  another  attack 
of  Proctor.  That  action  was  fought  on 
the  first  of  August;  on  the  tenth  of 
September,  Perry  defeated  and  captured 
the  whole  British  squadron.  Harrison 
who  had  been  impatiently  waiting  this 
result,  now  rapidly  matured  his  meas 
ures  for  the  reconquest  of  the  country 
overrun  by  the  British.  Employing  the 
smaller  vessels  taken  from  the  enemy 
to  transport  a  portion  of  his  forces,  now 
powerfully  recruited  by  the  Kentucky 
volunteers,  Harrison  effected  a  landing 
on  the  Canadian  shore,  on  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  the  month,  and  advancing 
to  Maiden,  found  it  abandoned  by  the 
British  and  its  fort  and  storehouses  de 
stroyed.  Proctor,  with  all  his  royal 
forces  accompanied  by  Tecumseh  with 
his  Indians,  had  retreated  within  the 
peninsula  along  the  line  of  the  Thames, 
which  empties  into  Lake  St.  Clair. 
General  Harrison,  leaving  detachments 
of  his  force  at  Sandwich  and  Detroit, 


WILLIAM    HENRY    HARRISON 


137 


now  regained,  pushed  on  with  a  com 
pany  of  about  a  hundred  and  forty  re 
gulars,  Colonel  Richard  M.  Johnson's 
mounted  Kentuckians,  and  Governor 
Shelby's  volunteers,  also  Kentuckians, 
after  the  retreating  foe.  Lewis  Cass 
and  Commodore  Perry  were  with  him 
as  volunteer  aids.  The  whole  force 
amounted  to  about  three  thousand  five 
hundred  men.  For  some  distance  along 
the  river  the  troops  were  accompanied 
by  the  smaller  vessels  of  the  fleet. 

The  progress  of  the  Americans  along 
the  route  was  of  the  most  exciting 
character  as  they  drove  in  the  enemy 
from  the  defence  of  the  bridges  which 
lay  in  their  way.  On  the  fifth  of  Octo 
ber  they  came  up  with  the  British  forces 
of  Proctor  drawn  up  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Moravian  town.  He  had  some  eight 
hundred  regular  troops  and  about  two 
thousand  Indians.  They  were  posted 
in  front  of  the  road  and  in  an  open 
wood  flanked  by  the  river  on  one  hand 
and  a  swamp  on  the  other.  The  Indians 
adjoined  the  swamp  on  the  enemy's 
right.  The  'attack  was  made  on  the 
front  by  the  mounted  Kentuckians, 
whose  charge  at  once  threw  that  portion 
of  the  foe  into  utter  confusion,  driv 
ing  through  their  ranks  and  assailing 
them  from  the  rear.  Colonel  Johnson, 
meanwhile,  was  engaged  in  a  stubborn 
conflict  with  the  Indians,  who,  directed 
by  the  skill  of  Tecumseh,  reserved  their 
fire  to  tell  with  deadly  effect  upon 
the  advancing  column.  Johnson  was 
wounded,  but  his  Kentuckians  were  not 
to  be  dismayed.  Dismounting  from 
their  horses  they  plied  their  rifles  with 
great  effect  against  the  Indians  who 
stood  their  ground  well,  but  being  un- 
18 


supported  by  their  British  employers, 
were  soon  compelled  to  retreat.  Proc 
tor  himself  had  already  taken  to  flight. 
Tecumseh  was  slain  in  the  battle,  the 
most  illustrious  victim  of  the  day.  Tho 
number  of  chivalrous  leaders  engaged 
in  the  American  ranks,  men  who  were 
then  or  afterward  became  greatly  cele 
brated,  Johnson,  Cass,  Perry,  Shelby, 
is  noticeable,  while  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century  later,  "  The  battle  of  the 
Thames"  was  to  be  one  of  the  watch 
words  of  victory  for  its  General  in  a 
great  political  contest. 

The  effect  of  this  successful  termina 
tion  of  the  contest  following  upon  Per 
ry's  naval  triumph — a  success  enhanced 
by  the  embarrassments  and  failures  of 
the  early  part  of  the  struggle — upon 
the  West,  can  hardly  be  appreciated  at 
the  present  day.  It  was  a  release  from 
danger  and  from  fear,  from  a  remorse 
less  foe  and  the  scalping  knife  of  the 
savage.  With  Tecumseh  fell  the  last 
Indian  enemy  known  to  a  great  region 
of  the  West.  Henceforth  we  are  to 
follow  his  successful  adversary  through 
the  paths  of  civil  life.  General  Ham- 
son  was  not  engaged  in  the  later  occu 
pations  of  the  army.  He  was  in  effect 
driven  to  retirement  by  the  arrange 
ments  of  General  Armstrong,  the  Sec 
retary  of  War,  by  whom  he  was,  under 
some  adverse  influence  or  other,  virtu 
ally  suspended  in  his  command.  When 
he  was  omitted  in  the  plan  of  the  next 
year's  campaign,  he  resigned  the  com 
mission  which  he  held  as  major-general, 
and  its  accompanying  emoluments. 

He  now  resided  at  his  farm  at  North 
Bend,  on  the  Ohio,  near  Cincinnati, 
which  henceforth,  in  the  intervals  of 


138 


WILLIAM    HENRY    HARRISON. 


public  occupation  to  which  he  was  fre 
quently  called,  continued  his  residence. 
He  was  in  Congress  from  1816  to  1818. 

<D 

a  member  of  the  House  of  Representa 
tives,  and  from  1824  to  1828  a  member 
of  the  Senate.  Between  these  dates  he 
sat  in  the  Ohio  Senate.  In  1828  we 
find  him  appointed  by  President  John 
Quincy  Adams,  Minister  Plenipoten 
tiary  to  the  Republic  of  Columbia. 
He  reached  Bogota,  the  seat  of  his  du 
ties,  in  February  of  the  next  year,  and 
was  received  with  favor,  but  he  had 
hardly  entered  upon  the  mission  when 
President  Jackson  coming  into  office,  he 
was  recalled.  Resuming  again  his  agri 
cultural  pursuits  at  North  Bend  upon 
his  return,  he  was  occasionally  called 
upon  to  deliver  public  addresses  and 
speeches,  of  which  several  were  printed. 
One  of  these,  which  was  republished 
during  his  canvass  for  the  presidency, 
was  a  discourse  before  the  Philosophical 
and  Historical  Society  of  Ohio,  in  1837, 
in  which  he  took  the  aborigines  of  the 
State  for  his  text.  He  had  some  talent 
for  composition  and  was  fond  of  illus 
trations  drawn  from  ancient  history. 

In  1836,  General  Harrison  was  a  can 
didate  for  the  presidency  in  opposition 
to  Van  Buren.  Though  the  strength 
of  the  Whig  party  which  he  represented, 
was  somewhat  divided,  he  received 
seventy-three  electoral  votes,  a  sufficient 
test  of  his  popularity  to  bring  him  into 
the  field  again  at  the  next  election. 
The  elements  of  opposition  had  in  the 
meantime  gained  force;  the  country 
was  suffering  under  an  extraordinary 
financial  depression ;  there  was  discon 
tent  on  all  sides.  General  Harrison  re 
ceived  the  nomination  of  twenty-two 


states  at  Harrisburg,  and  was  triumph 
antly  borne  into  the  presidential  chair. 
A  peculiarity  of  the  canvass  was  the 
popular  good  Avill,  which  eagerly  seiz 
ing  hold  of  the  "  log  cabin "  and  "  hard 
cider"  as  emblems  of  the  simplicity  of 
his  early  western  life,  turned  them  to 
political  account.  "Log  cabins"  were 
set  up  in  villages  and  towns  through 
out  the  country,  at  which  hard  cider  or 
its  more  comfortable  equivalents  were 
freely  dispensed.  Carried  rapidly  on 
ward  in  the  popular  enthusiasm,  he  re 
ceived  the  electoral  vote  of  twenty  of 
the  twenty-six  States,  and  two  hundred 
and  thirty -four  electoral  votes  against 
only  sixty  given  to  Mr.  Van  Buren. 

The  inauguration  of  President  Harri 
son  at  Washington,  took  place  on  the 
4th  of  March,  1841 ;  on  the  same  day  of 
the  following  month  he  breathed  his 
last.  The  active  duties  of  his  responsi 
ble  station,  the  exacting  pretensions  of 
office  seekers  who  beset  a  new  president, 
the  pressure  of  the  previous  canvass, 
may  have  all  contributed  to  the  severity 
of  the  shock  which  deprived  him  of  life. 
He  was  sixty-eight  years  old,  a  time  of 
life  when  any  great  change  of  habit 
may  easily  destroy  the  constitution; 
when  a  simple  cause  may  shake  a  wea 
ried  frame.  A  slight  cold  which  he 
took  by  exposure  to  the  rain  was  fol 
lowed  by  sudden  prostration;  a  diar 
rhoea  set  in,  and  after  an  illness  of  but 
a  few  days  he  expired.  His  last  words, 
heard  by  his  physician,  Dr.  Worthing- 
ton,  were  as  if  addressing  his  successor, 
"  Sir,  I  wish  you  to  understand  the  true 
principles  of  the  government.  I  wish 
them  carried  out.  I  ask  nothing  more  " 
In  announcing  the  event  to  the  public, 


WILLIAM   HENRY  HARRISON.  139 


the  members  of  the  Cabinet,  of  which  '  vation  to  the  presidency.  Ilia  life  was 
Daniel  Webster  was  at  the  head,  wrote:  marked  by  a  union  of  moderation  with 
"The  people  of  the  United  States,  over-  good  fortune  and  substantial  success  in 
whelmed  like  ourselves,  by  an  event  so  public  affairs.  lie  was  prosperous  as  a 
unexpected  and  so  melancholy,  will  •  commander  where  others  failed ;  he  was 
derive  consolation  from  knowing  that  identified  with  the  growth  and  prospe- 
his  death  was  calm  and  resigned  as  his  rity  of  a  powerful  region  of  the  repub- 
life  had  been  patriotic,  useful,  and  dis- ;  lie ;  he  had  made  few  enemies  though 
tinguished;  and  that  the  last  utterance  he  had  been  the  subject  of  hostility, 
from  his  lips  expressed  a  fervent  desire  !  and  he  had  been  too  long  retired  from 
for  the  perpetuity  of  the  constitution  '  public  life  to  awaken  any  new  preju- 
and  the  preservation  of  its  true  princi-  dices.  His  military  reputation,  after 
pies.  In  death,  as  in  life,  the  happiness  the  precedent  of  Jackson,  was  doubtless 
of  his  country  was  uppermost  in  his  in  his  favor ;  but  a  belief  in  his  good 


thoughts." 

The   personal   qualities   of   General 
Harrison  had  much  to  do  with  his  ele- 


sense  and  his  integrity,  with  the  expecta 
tions  of  the  times,  in  a  change  of  policy, 
were  the  elements  of  his  success. 


JOHN     TYLER. 


THE  family  of  John  Tyler  was  of  an 
old  English  stock,  established  in  Vir 
ginia  from  the  early  days  of  the  settle 
ment.  He  is  said,  in  fact,  by  one  of  his 
biographers,  to  be  descended  from  that 
redoubtable  Walter  or  Watt  Tyler,  the 
man  of  Kent  who  offered  such  brave 
resistance  to  the  tax-gatherers  of  the 
second  Richard,  and  who  had  for  his 
associate  the  famous  John  Ball,  a  reve 
rend  itinerant,  to  whom  is  attributed 
the  wholesome  democratic  inquiry 

"When  Adam  delved  and  Eve  span 
Who  was  then  the  gentleman  ? 

Be  all  this,  however,  as  it  may,  the 
grandfather  of  the  President  was  a  re 
spectable  landholder  in  the  colony  of 
Virginia,  in  the  vicinity  of  Williams- 
burgh,  enjoying  the  office  of  marshal  in 
the  ante-revolutionary  period.  His  son, 
John  Tyler,  born  in  time  to  take  part 
in  the  new  era,  was  a  member  of  the 
House  of  Delegates  from  Charles  City 
County  when  Patrick  Henry  and  his  as 
sociates  sounded  the  first  notes  of  revolt. 
As  the  cause  advanced  he  devoted  his 
fortunes  and  energies  to  the  patriotic 
work,  and  was  rewarded  by  the  suf 
frages  of  the  people  with  the  highest 
honors  of  the  State.  He  rose  to  be 
speaker  of  the  House  of  Delegates, 
Governor  of  the  State,  Judge  of  the 


United  States  District  Court,  and  in  his 
last  days,  in  the  period  of  the  second 
war  with  England,  was  created  by  Pre 
sident  Madison,  Judge  of  the  Federal 
Court  of  Admiralty.  He  died  at  the 
age  of  sixty-five.  He  was  the  intimate 
friend  and  correspondent  of  Patrick 
Henry,  for  whom  he  entertained  an 
ardent  admiration.  No  one  was  more 
esteemed  or  better  thought  of  in  the 
State. 

This  revolutionary  patriot  left  three 
sons,  the  first  of  whom  appears  to  have 
been  called  Watt,  after  the  old  English 
man  of  the  people,  the  stout  rebel  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  second, 
destined  to  occupy  the  chair  of  the  Pre 
sident  of  the  United  States,  named  after 
his  father  and  grandfather,  John,  was 
born  in  Charles  City  County,  March 
29,  1790.  The  youth  had  the  educa 
tion  and  training  of  the  son  of  a  Vir 
ginia  gentleman.  At  the  age  of  twelve 
he  entered  the  college  of  William  and 
Mary,  at  Williarnsburg,  and  enjoyed  * 
the  particular  friendship  of  the  venera 
ble  Bishop  Madison,  who  had  then  pre 
sided  over  the  institution  for  a  quarter 
of  a  century.  He  graduated  with  cre 
dit,  his  commencement  address  on 
"  Female  Education  "  gaining  more  than 
the  usual  plaudits  of  such  occasions, 
and  next  occupied  himself  with  the 

140 


JOHN    TYLER. 


141 


Btudy  of  tlie  law,  partly  with  his  father 
the  judge,  partly  with  the  eminent 
lawyer  Edmund  Randolph,  who  was  at 
one  time  Governor  of  the  State,  and 
who  was  conspicuous  in  the  affairs  of 
the  nation  as  a  member  of  the  old 
Congress,  the  Convention  of  the  Con 
stitution,  and  the  cabinet  of  President 
Washington.  At  nineteen,  we  are  told, 
he  was  permitted  to  practice  at  the  bar, 
no  question  being  made  as  to  his  age ; 
and  his  success  was  decided.  On  ar 
riving  at  twenty-one  he  was  unani 
mously  elected  a  member  of  the  House 
of  Delegates.  It  was  at  the  season 
when  the  war  with  Great  Britain,  long 
imminent  was  on  the  eve  of  actual  out 
break.  The  topic  was  an  attractive 
one  for  many  a  nascent  orator  through 
out  the  country,  and  was  not  neglected 
by  the  youthful  Tyler.  By  education 
and  tradition  he  belonged  to  the  demo 
cratic  party,  and  his  voice  was  raised  in 
favor  of  a  vigorous  prosecution  of  hos 
tilities  by  the  government.  When  the 
war  had  been  entered  upon  and  the 
British  forces  in  Chesapeake  Bay  threat 
ened  an  attack  on  Norfolk  and  Rich 
mond,  the  young  legislator  turned  his 
attention  to  the  more  active  prepara 
tion  for  the  field.  He  occupied  him 
self -in  raising  a  company  of  militia  in 
his  county,  whose  services  happily  were 
not  called  for.  This  slight  flavor  of 
warfare  in  comparison  with  the  impor 
tant  military  deeds  of  many  of  the  oc 
cupants  of  the  Presidential  chair,  gave 
him  the  familiar  title,  during  his  can 
vass  for  the  Presidency,  of  Captain 
Tyler ;  a  title  by  which  he  is  yet  occa 
sionally  named. 

We   must   not,   however,   anticipate 


this  portion  of  his  career.  He  con 
tinued  for  five  years  a  member  of  the 
House  of  Delegates  in  Virginia,  in  the 
last  of  which  he  was  raised  to  a  seat  in 
the  executive  council.  lie  had  hardly, 
however,  entered  upon  this  new  honor 
when  another  awaited  him,  at  the  close 
of  1816,  in  his  election  to  the  House  of 
Representatives,  to  fill  a  vacancy  caused 
by  the  death  of  the  incumbent.  His 
rival  in  the  canvass  was  a  gentleman, 
Mr.  Andrew  Stevenson,  afterward  dis 
tinguished  at  Washington,  whom  he 
defeated  by  a  majority  of  some  thirty 
votes.  At  the  next  regular  election  his 
triumph  over  the  same  candidate  was 
more  decided.  In  his  course  in  the 
House  he  pursued  generally  the  career, 
so  plainly  marked  out  under  the  rigid 
party  discipline  in  that  State,  of  a  state- 
rights  or  strict  constructional  Virginia 
politician.  He  was  opposed  to  internal 
improvements,  and  to  that  great  evil  in 
the  eyes  of  all  thoroughly-trained  demo 
crats,  a  national  bank.  He  opposed  Mr. 
Clay  in  his  attempt  to  gain  the  recog 
nition  of  the  independence  of  the  South 
American  Republics,  but  was  with  him 
in  the  censure  of  General  Jackson's  as 
sumptions  of  responsibility  in  the  Semi- 
nole  wars.  A  third  time  elected  to  Con 
gress,  he  voted  in  1820  for  the  unre 
stricted  admission  of  Missouri  into 
the  Union.  Before  his  new  term  of 
office  had  expired  he  was  compelled  to 
seek  retirement  in  consequence  of  ill 
health.  He  returned  to  his  farm  in 
Charles  City  County,  and  continued  the 
practice  of  his  profession. 

According  to  a  custom  which  does 
honor  to  American  politics,  he  thought 
it  no  indignity  after  occupying  a  seat 


142 


JOHN    TYLER. 


in  the  national  councils,  to  return  again 
to  the  humbler  duties,  with  which  he 
had  commenced  life,  of  service  in  the  le 
gislature  of  his  state.  He  was  for  three 
years,  from  1823  in  the  House  of  Dele 
gates,  applying  his  best  efforts  to  the 
welfare  of  Virginia.  It  is  an  example 
which  might  be  more  generally  imitated. 
Our  state  legislatures  embrace  a  variety 
of  interests  unknown  to  the  national 
representatives  at  Washington,  and  the 
maturity  of  years  and  experience  might 
be  brought  to  them  with  effect.  Mr. 
Tyler  in  this  capacity  applied  his  efforts 
to  the  improvement  of  Virginia,  and 
many  of  the  finest  roads  in  the  state,  it 
is  said,  are  due  to  his  exertions. 

In  1825  he  was  chosen  Governor  of 
the  State,  and  in  the  following  year 
was  taken  from  that  office  to  succeed 
John  Randolph  in  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States.  It  was  the  third  year 
of  the  administration  of  John  Quincy 
Adams  when  he  took  his  seat  and  he 
at  once  engaged  on  the  side  of  the  op 
position,  that  is  in  support  of  the  ine 
vitable  nomination  of  General  Jackson 
as  the  succeeding  President.  In  the 
late  election  he  had  been  in  favor  of 
the  Southern  candidate,  Mr.  Crawford, 
and  on  the  decision  being  carried  into 
the  House,  had  cheerfully  acquiesced  in 
Mr.  Clay's  casting  vote  for  Mr.  Adams. 
The  latter  soon  lost  ground  and  every 
means  was  taken  for  his  defeat. 

When  General  Jackson  was  elected, 
Mr.  Tyler  was  one  of  his  supporters  in 
the  Senate,  at  least  on  such  questions 
as  his.  rejection  of  internal  ^mprove- 
ments  and  veto  of  the  Bank.  He  op 
posed  a  tariff  for  protection.  On  one 
important  measure,  however,  he  was  in 


opposition  to  the  President.  He  took 
part  with  the  South  Carolinians  in  their 
nullification  doctrines,  and  spoke  against 
the  Force  Bill  introduced  into  the  Se 
nate  to  aid  General  Jackson  in  their 
overthrow.  When  Mr.  Clay  introduced 
his  compromise  bill,  modifying  the  ob 
noxious  tariff,  Mr.  Tyler  gave  it  his 
support. 

On  the  close  of  his  term  in  1833,  he 
was  again  elected  to  the  Senate.  It 
was  the  beginning  of  that  second  term 
of  Jackson's  administration  memorable 
in  the  annals  of  the  country  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  warfare  against 
that  political  giant,  the  Bank  of  the 
United  States.  To  these  measures  Mr. 
Tyler  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Calhoun 
and  other  members  of  his  party  stood 
opposed.  He  voted  in  favor  of  Mr. 
Clay's  resolutions  of  censure,  standing 
on  his  old  Virginia  ground  as  a  strict 
constructionist,  hostile  to  all  undue  as 
sumptions  of  power  on  the  part  of  the 
Executive.  He  did  this  at  the  time  no 
less  in  accordance  with  his  own  feelings 
than  with  the  views  of  the  Virginia  le 
gislature  which  had  elected  him.  Time 
passed  on,  and  the  President,  gaining 
ground  throughout  the  country  and  in 
the  Senate,  the  pertinacious  resolution 
of  Mr.  Benton  to  expunge  the  obnoxious 
resolution  was  pressed  to  a  final  issue. 
Mr.  Tyler  now  received  instructions  to 
vote  for  it.  What  should  he  do  ?  The 
right  of  instruction  and  the  duty  of  the 
Representative  to  obey  it  had  always 
been  a  maxim  of  his  political  creed, 
which  it  so  happened  that  he  had  on 
more  than  one  occasion  in  his  career, 
brought  conspicuously  before  the  pub 
lic.  Could  he  now  disavow  his  che- 


JOHN    TYLER. 


n;; 


rished  convictions?  One  choice  was 
left  him — to  resign,  and  he  cheerfully 
met  the  issue,  resigning  his  seat  in  the 
Senate  rather  than  take  part  in  the 
mutilation  of  the  sacred  record.  In  his 
letter  of  resignation  to  the  Legislature 
of  Virginia  he  wrote :  "  I  dare  not  touch 
the  Journal  of  the  Senate.  The  Con 
stitution  forbids  it.  In  the  midst  of  all 
the  agitations  of  party,  I  have  hereto 
fore  stood  by  that  sacred  instrument. 
It  is  the  only  post  of  honor  and  of  safety. 
A  seat  in  the  Senate  is  sufficiently  ele 
vated  to  fill  the  measure  of  any  man's 
ambition ;  and  as  an  evidence  of  the 
sincerity  of  my  convictions  that  your 
resolutions  cannot  be  executed,  without 
violating  my  oath,  I  surrender  into  your 
hands  three  unexpired  years  of  my  term. 
I  shall  carry  with  me  into  retirement 
the  principles  which  I  brought  with  me 
into  public  life,  and  by  the  surrender 
of  the  high  station  to  which  I  was 
called  by  the  voice  of  the  people  of 
Virginia,  I  shall  set  an  example  to  my 
children  which  shall  teach  them  to  re 
gard  as  nothing,  place  and  office,  when 
to  be  either  obtained  or  held  at  the  sac 
rifice  of  honor."  In  the  excited  state 
of  the  political  world  at  the  time,  when 
the  attention  of  the  whole  community 
was  fastened  upon  the  scene  in  the  Se 
nate,  such  an  act  could  not  escape  notice. 
It  met  with  the  general  plaudits  of  the 
country. 

Mr.  Tyler  now  became  a  resident  at 
Williamsburg,  the  early  residence  of 
his  father,  and  passed  his  time  in  com 
parative  retirement.  In  the  presiden 
tial  canvass  of  1836  he  was  placed  on 
the  ticket  for  Vice  President  in  several 
of  the  states,  receiving  forty-seven  votes 


in  all.  His  support  was  derived  from 
the  Southern  State  Rights  Party  in  op 
position  to  Jackson  and  Van  Buren. 
Two  years  later,  in  1838,  we  find  him 
once  more  seated  in  the  Virginia  House 
of  Delegates  "acting  with  the  Whig 
Party,  under  which  name  the  different 
sections  of  the  opposition  to  Mr.  Van 
Buren's  administration  gradually  be 
came  amalgamated  in  Virginia."  This 
connexion  introduced  him  to  the  Whig 
nominating  convention  of  1839,  which 
sat  at  Harrisburg  where  he  made  his 
appearance  as  a  friend  of  Henry  Clay. 
Upon  the  vote  being  taken  in  favor 
of  General  Harrison,  Mr.  Tyler  was 
adopted  on  the  ticket  as  Vice  President. 
In  the  election  which  ensued  he  was 
chosen  by  the  same  overwhelming  vote 
with  the  President. 

The  fourth  of  March,  1841,  saw  the 
inauguration  of  President  Harrison  at 
Washington,  and  barely  one  month 
after,  Vice  President  Tyler  was  himself 
summoned  from  his  home  at  Williams- 
burg  to  enter  upon  the  duties  of  that 
high  office.  It  was  the  first  time  death 
had  seized  an  occupant  of  the  presiden 
tial  chair.  President  Harrison  died  on 
the  fourth  of  April,  at  Washington. 
Congress  was  not  in  session.  The  offi 
cers  of  the  cabinet,  of  whom  Daniel 
Webster  was  at  the  head,  took  charge 
of  the  government  for  the  moment,  im 
mediately  sending  a  special  messenger 
with  an  announcement  to  Vice  Presi 
dent  Tyler  of  the  melancholy  fact.  On 
the  morning  of  the  second  day,  the  sixth 
of  April,  Mr.  Tyler  arrived  in  Washing 
ton,  and  the  same  day,  before  Judge 
Cranch,  of  the  District  of  Columbia, 
took  the  oath,  "  faithfully  to  execute  the 


144 

office  of  President  of  the  United  States, 
and  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  preserve, 
protect  and  defend  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States."  He  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  make  this  oath  after  that 
which  he  had  taken  on  entering  upon 
his  duties  as  Vice  President  but  as  a 
measure  of  prudence  and  "  for  greater 
caution  as  doubts  may  arise."  On  re 
ceiving  the  members  of  the  cabinet  he 
expressed  his  wish  that  they  should 
remain  in  office.  The  funeral  of  the 
late  president  took  place  on  the  seventh 
and  was  attended  by  President  Tyler. 

There  was  no  public  ceremonial  of 
an  inauguration  on  his  taking  the  oath 
before  Justice  Cranch  and  consequently 
no  public  address,  but  two  days  after 
the  funeral,  on  the  ninth  of  April,  an 
"  inaugural  address  "  was  issued  by  the 
President  which  was  read  with  much 
interest.  It  was  expected  to  solve  the 
question  wrhich  began  to  be  much  agi 
tated  of  the  degree  of  conformity  of 
the  views  of  the  new  incumbent  to  the 
Whig  principles  of  his  predecessor.  He 
had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  led  on  vari 
ous  occasions  to  cooperate  with  the 
Whig  party,  but  many  of  his  anteced 
ents  were  directly  hostile  to  their  views. 
His  name  had  been  placed  on  the 
ticket  in  the  Southern  interest  and  as  a 
friend  of  Mr.  Clay,  without  any  distinct 
pledges  on  his  part  to  serve  the  doc 
trines  of  the  party.  In  fact  the  proba 
bility  of  his  being  placed  *in  the  autho 
ritative  position  of  President  had  not 
been  very  seriously  if  at  all  entertained, 
by  the.  convention  which,  somewhat 
hastily,  put  him  in  nomination.  The 
address,  however,  was  upon  the  whole, 
acceptable  to  the  Whigs  ;  it  certainly 


JOHN    TYLER. 


gave  little  satisfaction  to  the  opposite 
party  which  saw  in  it  a  lurking  con 
demnation  of  the  "assumptions"  of 
President  Jackson,  and  an  inclination, 
at  least,  toward  a  national  bank.1 

A  few  days  after  this  address  Presi 
dent  Tyler  issued  "a  recommendation" 
to  the  people  of  the  United  States,  of  a 
day  of  fasting  and  prayer,  in  recognition 
of  the  solemn  bereavement  in  the  death 
of  the  late  president. 

An  extra  session  of  Congress  had 
been  already  summoned  by  President 
Harrison,  to  meet  the  last  day  of  May. 
It  sat  from  that  date  till  September. 
As  its  main  object  was  to  take  into  con 
sideration  the  financial  condition  of  the 
country,  and,  if  possible,  provide  ways 
and  means  for  its  relief,  the  question  of 
the  creation  of  a  new  United  State. 
Bank  became  a  paramount  subject  of 
discussion.  The  President  was  appa 
rently  in  favor  of  such  an  institution. 
In  his  message  he  reviewed  the  previous 
course  of  legislation  in  this  matter,  and 
admitted  the  last  substitute,  the  sub- 
treasury,  to  be  condemned  by  the  peo 
ple.  "To  you,  then,"  he  concluded, 
addressing  Congress,  "  who  have  come 
more  directly  from  the  body  of  our  com 
mon  constituents,  I  submit  the  entire 
question,  as  best  qualified  to  give  a  full 
exposition  of  their  wishes  and  opinions. 
I  shall  be  ready  to  concur  with  you  in 
the  adoption  of  such  system  as  you  may 
propose,  reserving  to  myself  the  ulti 
mate  power  of  rejecting  any  measure 
which  may,  in  my  view  of  it,  conflict 
with  the  Constitution,  or  otherwise 
jeopard  the  prosperity  of  the  country— 

1  Benton's  Thirty  Years'  View,  II.,  212. 


JOUN    TYLER. 


11.-, 


a  power  which  I  could  not  part  with  if 
I  would,  l)iit  which  I  will  not  believe 
any  act  of  yours  will  call  into  requisi 
tion."  This  sentence  foreshadowed  the 
result.  Two  bills  were  prepared  ac 
cording  to  plans  more  or  less  adapted 
to  the  views  of  the  President,  and  both, 
when  they  had  been  passed  after  much 
discussion  in  Congress,  were  vetoed  by 
him.  For  the  plans  and  devices,  the 
learned  political  doubts  and  constitu 
tional  arguments  on  either  side  we 
must  refer  the  reader  to  the  debates  in 
Congress  and  the  messages  of  President 
Tyler  himself.  On  the  side  of  the 
Whigs  throughout  the  country  there 
sprung  up  a  great  disaffection  in  conse 
quence,  toward  the  President  whom 
they  had  created.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  Democratic  party  thanked  their  un 
expected  assistant  with  moderated  en 
thusiasm.  It  was  thought  to  be  the 
last  effort  in  Congress  to  establish  a 
National  Bank.  Other  measures  of  re 
lief,  however,  were  passed  at  this  extra 
session  including  the  bankrupt  act  and 
a  national  loan. 

The  defection  of  President  Tyler,  as 
it  was  considered,  from  the  Whig  party 
caused  the  resignation  of  most  of  the 
members  of  his  cabinet.  Daniel.  Web 
ster,  however,  remained  in  the  office  of 
Secretary  of  State  to  complete  the  im 
portant  negotiation  with  England  in 
reference  to  the  disputed  North  Eastern 
Boundary.  This  treaty,  one  of  the 
most  important  acts  of  President  Tyler's 
administration,  was  negotiated  between 
Lord  Ashburton  who  was  sent  a  special 
minister  from  England  for  the  purpose, 
and  Mr.  Webster  as  Secretary  of  State 
in  1842.  Mr.  Webster  held  his  office 

19 


in  the  cabinet  till  May  of  the  following 
year.  His  successor  was  Mr.  Abel  P. 
Upshur  of  Virginia,  who  perished  while 
in  office,  in  February,  1844,  by  the  fatal 
explosion  on  board  the  Princeton,  on  the 
Potomac.  Mr.  Calhoun  was  afterwards 
appointed  Secretary  of  State,  and  in 
1844  negotiated  a  treaty  of  annexation 
between  the  United  States  and  the  Re 
public  of  Texas,  which  was  rejected  by 
the  Seriate.  In  the  following  year  the 
annexation,  which  had  been  recom 
mended  by  the  President,  and  became 
a  test  question  with  politicians  through 
the  country,  passed  both  houses.  This 
was  among  the  last  acts  of  President 
Tyler's  administration.  His  successor, 
Mr.  Polk,  had  already  been  chosen,  and 
a  few  months  after,  on  the  fourth  of 
March,  1845,  entered  upon  the  duties 
of  his  office.  Mr.  Tyler  then  retired  to 
his  seat  in  Virginia,  carrying  with  him 
to  grace  his  home  a  lady  of  New  York, 
a  daughter  of  the  late  Mr.  David 
Gardner,  whom  he  had  married  •during 
his  Presidency,  in  1844.  He  had  been 
previously  married  in  1813  to  a  lady 
of  Virginia,  Miss  Letitia  Christian,  who 
died  at  Washington,  leaving  three  sons 
and  three  daughters.  One  of  the  sons, 
Mr.  Robert  Tyler,  attracted  some  at 
tention  in  the  literary  world  as  the 
author  of  a  poem  entitled  Ahasuerus. 
After  his  retirement  from  the  Presi 
dency  Mr.  Tyler  passed  his  time  in 
honorable  leisure,  appearing  on  one  or 
two  occasions  to  deliver  public  ad 
dresses  on  anniversary  and  other  meet 
ings  of  historical  or  other  general  in 
terest.  His  first  production  of  this 
kind  was  an  address  which  should  have 
been  mentioned  in  the  order  of  our  nar- 


146 


JOHN   TYLER. 


rative,  delivered  in  July,  1826,  at  the 
capitol  square  in  Richmond,  in  memory 
of  his  own  and  father's  friend,  the  illus 
trious  Jefferson. 

The  agitation  arising  out  of  the  Pre 
sidential  election  of  1860  brought  Mr. 
Tyler  again  before  the  public.  When 
the  success  of  the  Republican  party  in 
the  election  of  Mr.  Lincoln  was  followed 
by  threats  and  active  measures  of  dis 
union  on  the  part  of  the  South,  he  was 
sent  by  the  legislature  of  Virginia  to 
Washington,  a  member  of  the  notable 
Peace  Convention  of  delegates  from  the 
northern  and  border  -States,  a  measure 
originally  proposed  in  Virginia  with 
the  view  of  warding  off  impending  hos 
tilities  between  the  two  portions  of  the 
country  by  some  adjustment  or  com 
promise  of  the  questions  in  dispute. 
The  convention  met  at  Washington  on 
the  4th  of  February,  1861,  and  Mr. 
Tyler  was  chosen  its  President.  In  an 
opening  address  he  declared  the  object 
of  the  assembly  "to  snatch  from  ruin 
a  great  and  glorious  confederation,  to 
preserve  the  government,  and  to  renew 
and  invigorate  the  Constitution."  In 
the  course  of  his  remarks  he  observed 
that  "our  ancestors  probably  com 
mitted  a  blunder  in  not  having  fixed 


upon  every  fifth  decade  for  a  call  of 
a  general  convention  to  amend  and 
reform  the  Constitution."  The  con 
vention,  in  which  twenty-one  States 
were  represented,  debated  for  three 
weeks  various  propositions,  and  finally 
determined  upon  the  recommendation 
of  a  plan,  extending  the  line  of  the 
Missouri  Compromise  to  the  Pacific,  and 
proposing  additional  securities  for  the 
"  peculiar  institution "  by  limitation  of 
the  legislation  of  Congress,  and  other 
measures.  The  whole  was  submitted 
to  the  consideration  of  the  national 
Congress  then  in  session,  and  the  con 
vention  adjourned. 

Congress  was  not  disposed  to  accept 
this  and  the  like  palliatives  of  the  na 
tional  difficulties  which  were  proposed 
in  that  body.  The  crisis  rapidly  ap 
proached.  The  acts  of  secession  of  the 
Southern  States  were  followed  by  the 
attack  on  Sumter.  Virginia,  no  longer 
neutral,  cast  in  her  lot  with  the  Con 
federacy,  and  Mr.  Tyler  followed  the 
fortunes  of  his  State,  and  became  an 
active  Secessionist.  He  was  chosen  a 
senator  in  the  Confederate  Congress, 
and  held  this  position  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  which  occurred  suddenly  at 
Richmond,  January  18,  1862. 


JAMES    KNOX     POLK. 


THE  eleventh  President  of  the  United 
States  was  born  in  Mecklenburg  county, 
North  Carolina,  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
county  town  of  Charlotte,  November  2, 
1795.  He  was  of  Scoto-Irish  descent, 
the  name  being  said  to  have  been  ori 
ginally  Pollock  in  Scotland.  Robert 
Polk,  the  first  American  ancestor  of 
the  family,  emigrated  from  Ireland 
about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  He  came  to  Maryland,  and 
was  temporarily  established,  with  his 
children,  on  the  eastern  shore ;  thence 
his  sons  removed  first  to  the  interior  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  afterward  to  the 
more  permanent  settlement  in  North 
Carolina.  In  this  frontier  district,  in 
the  western  part  of  the  State,  border 
ing  on  South  Carolina,  in  the  region 
bounded  by  the  parallel  streams  of  the 
Yadkin  and  the  Catawba,  the  three 
sons  of  Thomas  Polk,  Thomas,  Ezekiel 
and  Charles,  found  a  home,  in  the 
midst  of  a  sturdy,  independent  popula 
tion,  who  earned  the  virtues  of  order, 
sobriety,  and  secular  and  religious  edu 
cation  to  the  borders  of  what  was  then 
the  Indian  wilderness.  Two  of  these 
brothers,  Thomas  and  Ezekiel,  became 
distinguished  in  the  early  annals  of  the 
Revolution,  in  those  measures  of  pro 
test  and  resistance  which  placed  North 
Carolina  in  the  foremost  rank  of  State 


patriotism.  Thomas  Polk  was  put  for 
ward  as  the  leader  of  these  indepen 
dent  mountaineers.  He  was  colonel  of 
the  militia,  and  had  been  a  surveyor 
and  member  of  the  colonial  assembly. 
It  was  at  his  call  that  a  convention  of 
the  citizens  of  the  region,  delegates  of 
the  militia  districts,  assembled  at  Char 
lotte  on  the  19th  of  May,  1775,  to 
deliberate  on  the  crisis  at  hand.  While 
they  were  assembled,  it  is  said,  news 
was  brought  by  a  post  rider  of  the 
bloody  day  at  Lexington.  The  meet 
ing  was  stimulated  to  action,  and  ex 
pressed  its  resolve  in  the  famous 
Mecklenburgh  Declaration  of  Indepen 
dence,  which  curiously  anticipated,  in 
its  spirit  and  even  a  portion  of  its  lan 
guage,  the  words  of  the  great  national 
instrument  from  the  pen  of  Jefferson. 
Thomas  Polk  was  a  master-spirit  in 
these  transactions. 

His  nephew  Samuel,  son  of  Ezekiel, 
was  the  father  of  the  future  President. 
He  was  a  farmer  "  of  unassuming  pre 
tensions,  but  of  enterprising  character." 
His  wife,  who  gave  her  family  name  to 
her  son,  was  the  daughter  of  James 
Knox,  who  became  captain  in  the 
military  service  of  the  Revolution. 
In  1806,  when  their  son  James  was 
about  eleven  years  old,  the  family, 
tempted  by  the  accounts  of  western 

147 


1-48 


JAMES    KNOX    POLK. 


lands,  removed  across  the  mountains 
into  the  adjoining  state  of  Tennessee, 
and  settled  on  the  banks  of  Duck 
river.  In  this  region,  the  boyhood  of 
the  future  President  was  passed  in 
the  hardy  pursuits  of  a  farmer's  life, 
spent  in*  subduing  the  land  to  the  pur 
poses  of  cultivation.  His  health,  how 
ever,  was  not  robust,  and  his  father, 
thinking  perhaps  that  less  demand 
would  be  made  upon  his  physical 
powers,  procured  him  employment  at 
first  with  a  store-keeper.  The  occupa 
tion  was  not  to  the  youth's  taste ;  he 
was  of  a  reflective  turn,  fond  of  read 
ing,  and  his  mind  had  been  led  to 
study  by  witnessing  his  father's  occu 
pations  as  a  surveyor.  He  desired  to 
leave  merchandize — his  wish  was  grant 
ed — and  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  he 
applied  himself  regularly  to  study,  at 
first  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hen 
derson,  and  afterward  at  the  academy 
of  Murfreesborough  in  the  State,  in 
charge  of  Mr.  Samuel  P.  Black,  a  man  of 
valuable  classical  acquirements.  With 
these  advantages  and  diligent  applica 
tion,  the  pupil  in  1815  entered  the 
Sophomore  Class  of  the  University  of 
North  Carolina,  at  Chapel  Hill. 

He  distinguished  himself  in  his  col 
lege  course  by  his  punctual,  earnest  ap 
plication  and  proficiency  in  his  studies. 
He  became  the  foremost  scholar  both  in 
mathematics,  for  which  he  had  a  natu 
ral  liking,  and  in  the  .classics.  He 
graduated  in  1818  with  the  highest 
honors,  delivering  the  Latin  salutatory 
oration.  He  -was  then  twenty-three, 
some  two  or  three  years  older  than  the 
great  majority  of  the  crowd  who  are 
sent  out  annually  as  bachelors  of  arts ; 


but  the  later  preparation  was  doubt 
less  an  advantage  to  him  in  the  greater 
maturity  of  his  powers.  Our  college 
studies,  in  fact,  would  be  far  better 
pursued  by  older  students,  more  tho 
roughly  grounded  in  the  introductory 
apprenticeship  to  learning.  The  work 
of  education,  if  accomplished  at  all,  is 
in  most  cases,  we  are  persuaded,  to  be 
begun  over  again  by  the  pupil  himself 
after  the  so  called  university  course  is 
ended.  Mr.  Polk  carried  his  duties 
with  him  into  active  life;  they  were 
always  self-imposed,  and  were  with 
him  a  living  reality. 

After  taking  his  degree,  though  ill 
health  pleaded  for  a  relaxation  from 
his  diligent  application  to  books,  we 
find  him  soon  commencing  the  study 
of  the  law  with  Felix  Grundy,  the 
eminent  legal  pioneer  of  the  west,  then 
established  in  the  fullness  of  his  pro 
fessional  career  at  Nashville,  with  the 
additional  eclat  of  successful  statesman 
ship  at  Washington,  as  a  member  of 
the  committee  of  Foreign  Relations  in 
the  war  administration  of  Madison. 
Association  with  such  a  preceptor,  a 
man  of  vigorous  mind,  who  had  achieved 
distinction  by  the  force  of  his  own  cha 
racter,  must  doubtless  have  exercised  a 
leading  influence  upon  a  young  man 
who  had  already  given  proof  of  his 
triumph  over  ordinarily  adverse  for 
tunes.  Pursuing  his  legal  studies  for 
two  years,  he  was  in  1820  admitted  to 
the  bar,  and  returned  from  Nashville 
to  pursue  the  profession  in  the  region 
of  his  home  at  Columbia.  His  success, 
based  upon  his  thorough  acquisitions 
and  the  influence  of  his  family  associa 
tions,  for  there  were  numerous  emi- 


JAMES    KNOX    POLK. 


149 


grants  of  his  stock  to  the  district,  was 
so  rapid  that  in  less  than  a  year  he  was 
acknowledged  as  a  leading  practitioner. 
He  had  already  acquired  fame  and  pro 
fit  at  the  bar,  when,  in  1823,  he  had 
his  first  introduction  to  politioal  life, 
or  rather  office,  as  a  member  from  his 
county  of  Maury  in  the  State  legisla 
ture.  A  lawyer  in  the  west  at  that 
time,  and  the  remark  may  be  applied 
more  or  less  to  the  present  day,  was  of 
necessity  something  of  a  politician,  and 
we  hear  of  Mr.  Polk  assisting  the  tradi 
tionary  tendencies  and  conduct  of  his 
family  by  his  earnest  advocacy  of  the 
democratic  policy.  He  was  often  called 
upon  to  address  political  gatherings, 
and  acquitted  himself,  we  are  told, 
with  credit  and  favor  by  a  plain  use 
of  argument,  without  resort  to  the 
taudry  and  meretricious  ornaments  in 
which  popular  speakers  so  often  feel 
themselves  called  upon  to  indulge. 
The  success,  in  fact,  of  his  life  was 
due  to  quite  other  qualities — to  his 
simple,  sincere,  straightforward  charac 
ter,  and  the  confidence  those  who  knew 
him  derived  from  his  manners  and 
conduct. 

Mr.  Polk  remained  two  years  in  the 
Tennessee  legislature,  in  the  course  of 
which  he  had  the  opportunity  of  ren 
dering  important  service  to  his  early 
friend,  Andrew  Jackson,  in  his  elec 
tion  to  the  senate  of  the  United 
States.  Mr.  Polk,  at  this  time,  was 
married  to  the  daughter  of  Joel  Chil- 

O 

dress,  a  merchant  of  Tennessee,  a  lady 
whose  virtues  and  graces,  in  public 
and  private  life,  in  the  prominent 
social  theatre  at  Washington,  are  grate 
fully  held  in  esteem  by  the  nation.  In 


1825,  Mr.  Polk  was  elected  a  member 
of  congress,  took  his  seat  in  December, 
and  was  continued  a  member  of  that 
body  for  fourteen  years.  No  one  du 
ring  this  period  was  more  completely 
identified  with  its  proceedings.  It 
embraced  the  vigorous  period  of  his 
life,  from  thirty  to  forty-four.  He  ap 
peared  on  the  floor  of  the  House  of 
Representatives,  the  representative,  in 
all  their  integrity  and  severity,  of  the 
creed  of  strict  construction  which  had 
grown  out  of  the  doctrines  of  the  old 
Republican  Jeffersonian  party.  lie  was 
opposed  to  the  recharter  of  the  Bank 
of  the  United  States,  to  a  protective 
tariff,  to  wasteful  expenditures  in  inter 
nal  improvements ;  he  advocated  econo 
my  in  the  government.  In  all  questions 
arising  from  the  discussions,  he  was  a 
zealous,  persistent  supporter  of  his 
party.  In  1827,  he  was  placed  on  the 
committee  of  foreign  affairs;  and  du 
ring  the  administration  of  General 
Jackson,  as  head  of  the  committee  of 
ways  and  means,  rendered  the  Presi 
dent  the  most  important  assistance  in 
his  vigorously  conducted  war  against 
the  United  jStates  Bank.  His  other 
more  prominent  position  in  the  House 
was  as  speaker,  to  which  he  was  elected 
at  the  opening  of  the  session  in  1835, 
and  again  at  the  session  of  1837,  with 
the  conclusion  of  which  he  retired  from 
congress,  declining  a  reelection. 

The  four  years,  during  which  he  pre 
sided  over  the  deliberations  of  the 
House,  were  marked  by  strong  political 
excitement,  and  the  duties  of  the  office 
had  grown,  with  the  increase  of  con 
gress,  to  be  of  a  more  arduous  charac 
ter.  Through  all  discussions,  however, 


150 


JAMES    KNOX    POLK. 


Mr.  Polk  pursued  his  steady,  calm,  in 
flexible  course,  always  present,  the 
most  punctual  man  in  the  House,  task 
ing  his  powers,  it  seemed  to  the  stranger 
looking  on  the  excited  scene,  beyond 
his  strength,  educing  order  out  of  chaos, 
dividing  the  knotty  questions  of  debate 
with  the  skill  and  impartiality  of  an 
acute  mind  well  practised  in  parlia 
mentary  logic.  The  importance  of  the 
position  has  been  more  than  once 
shown,  since  Mr.  Folk's  discharge  of 
the  office,  in  the  protracted  struggles 
at  the  commencement  of  new  sessions 
of  the  House  in  the  equal  division  of 
parties.  It  must  always  be  regarded 
as  a  most  distinguishing  honor  for  any 
man,  and  the  ability  and  energy  of 
Mr.  Polk  will  be  honorably  remembered 
in  its  annals. 

That  Mr.  Polk  himself  held  a  no  less 
high  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  position 
may  be  gathered  from  the  language  in 
which  he  took  leave  of  the  House  on 
the  adjournment  of  that  body  in  1839. 
His  brief  review  of  his  duties  presents 
an  extraordinary  picture  of  duty  faith 
fully  performed  and  as  honorably  ap 
preciated.  "  When  I  look  back  to  the 
period,"  was  his  language,  "  when  I  first 
took  my  seat  in  this  House,  and  then 
look  around  me  for  those  who  were  at 
that  time  my  associates  here,  I  find  but 
few,  very  few,  remaining.  But  five 
members  who  were  here  with  me  four 
teen  years  ago,  continue  to  be  members 
of  this  body.  My  service  here  has  been 
constant  and  laborious.  I  can  perhaps 
say  what  but  what  few  others,  if  any, 
can,  that  I  have  not  failed  to  attend 
the  daily  sittings  of  this  House  a  single 
day  since  I  have  been  a  member  of  it, 


save  on  a  single  occasion,  when  pre 
vented  for  a  short  time  by  indisposi 
tion.  In  my  intercourse  with  the  mem 
bers  of  this  body,  when  I  occupied  a 
place  upon  the  floor,  though  occasion 
ally  engaged  in  debates  upon  interest 
ing  public  questions  and  of  an  exciting 
character,  it  is  a  source  of  unmingled 
gratification  to  me  to  recur  to  the  fact, 
that  on  no  occasion  was  there  the 
slightest  personal  or  unpleasant  colli 
sion  with  any  of  its  members.  Main 
taining,  and  at  all  times  expressing,  my 
own  opinions  firmly,  the  same  right 
was  fully  conceded  to  others.  For  four 
years  past,  the  station  I  have  occupied, 
and  a  sense  of  propriety,  in  the  divided 
and  unusually  exciting  state  of  public 
opinion  and  feeling,  which  has  existed 
both  in  this  House  and  the  country, 
have  precluded  me  from  participating 
in  your  debates.  Other  duties  were 
assigned  me. 

"  The  high  office  of  Speaker,  to  which 
it  has  been  twice  the  pleasure  of  the 
House  to  elevate  me,  has  been  at  all 
times  one  of  labor  and  high  responsi 
bility.  It  has  been  made  my  duty  to 
decide  more  questions  of  parliamentary 
law  and  order,  many  of  them  of  a  com 
plex  and  difficult  character,  arising 
often  in  the  midst  of  high  excitement, 
in  the  course  of  our  proceedings,  than 
had  been  decided,  it  is  believed,  by  all 
my  predecessors,  from  the  foundation 
of  the  government.  This  House  has 
uniformly  sustained  me,  without  dis 
tinction  of  the  political  parties  of  which 
it  has  been  composed.  I  return  them 
my  thanks  for  their  constant  support 
in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  I  have 
had  to  perform.  ...  I  trust  this 


JAMES    KNOX   POLK. 


151 


hiurh  office  may  in  future  times  1>e 
fill  in!,  as  doubtless  it  will  be,  by  abler 
men.  It  cannot,  I  know,  be  filled  by 
any  one  who  will  devote  himself  with 
more  zeal  and  untiring  industry  to  do 
his  whole  duty,  than  I  have  done." 

Mr.  Polk  had  hardly  reached  his 
home  in  Tennessee  after  his  retirement 
from  Congress,  when  he  engaged  in  a 
diligent  canvassing  of  the  State  as  a  can 
didate  for  governor  at  the  approaching 
election.  He  was  untiring  in  his  devo 
tion  to  his  object,  and  so  successful  was 
his  energy,  that  he  gained  the  election 
over  his  opponent,  the  incumbent  of  the 
office.  His  inaugural  address,  deli 
vered  at  Nashville  in  October,  1839,  a 
remarkably  clear  and  well-written  com 
position,  reviewed  the  leading  distinc 
tive  principles  of  his  party — the  strict 
interpretation  of  the  Constitution,  in 
reference  to  express  and  implied  pow 
ers  ;  the  unconstitutionality  and  dangers 
of  a  national  bank ;  the  evil  of  a  surplus 
Federal  revenue;  the  inviolability  of 
slavery  by  Congress  in  the  slave-hold 
ing  States,  and  other  well  known  posi 
tions.  In  his  own  State  he  encouraged 
and  assisted  a  "  well  regulated  system 
of  internal  improvement."  His  admi 
nistration  was  generally  well  received ; 
but  when  the  time  came  for  reelection, 
he  shared  the  fortunes  of  his  party  and 
suffered  a  defeat.  It  was  the  moment 
of  the  popular  whig  triumph  of  Gene 
ral  Harrison ;  two  years  later  his  rival, 
Governor  James  C.  Jones,  was  again 
successful  in  the  contest. 

The  next  turn  of  the  political  wheel 
carried  ex-Governor  Polk  to  the  Presi 
dency.  A  decided  letter,  written  by 
him  in  favor  of  the  annexation  of  Texas, 


brought  him  favorably  before  the  Bal 
timore  Convention  of  May,  1844,  when 
that  nominating  body  had  exhausted 
the  roll  of  prior  candidates.  On  the 
ninth  ballot,  after  Van  Buren,  Cass  and 
others  had  been  set  aside,  he  received 
the  requisite  two-thirds  vote  and  be 
came  the  candidate  of  the  party.  In 
accepting  the  nomination,  he  avowed 
his  intention,  in  the  event  of  his  elec 
tion,  not  to  be  a  candidate  for  a  second 
term.  The  contest  between  the  two 
tickets,  Polk  and  Dallas,  Clay  and 
Frelinghuysen,  resulted  in  the  electoral 
college  in  a  majority  for  the  former 
ticket  of  sixty-five.  Fifteen  States  voted 
for  Polk ;  eleven,  and  among  them  Ten 
nessee,  by  a  small  majority,  for  Clay. 
The  successful  candidate  was  duly  in 
augurated  at  Washington  in  March, 
1845. 

The  leading  measures,-  or  rather  the 
chief  events,  of  Polk's  administration  of 
the  Presidency  were  the  adjustment  of 
the  Oregon  question  with  England,  and 
the  War  with  Mexico.  In  the  former 
he  took  ground  in  his  inaugural  and 
annual  message,  in  accordance  with  the 
resolutions  of  the  Baltimore  nominating 
convention,  in  favor  of  the  claim  to 
the  whole  of  the  territory,  a  position 
which,  while  maintaining  his  view  of 
the  matter,  he  in  a  measure  yielded  to 
the  will  of  the  Senate  in  their  accept 
ance  of  the  terms  of  the  British  govern 
ment.  The  treaty  was  signed  in  June, 
1846.  A  month  before  this,  Congress 
officially  recognized,  by  its  declaration, 
the  existence  of  war  with  Mexico.  Of 
the  events  of  that  war,  of  which  Presi 
dent  Polk  must  be  considered  the  in 
fluential  agent,  it  is  not  necessary  here 


152 


JAMES    KNOX    POLK. 


to  speak  in  detail.  Its  progress  was, 
upon  the  whole,  so  honorable  to  the 
arms  of  the  country,  as  victory  after 
victory  was  chronicled  in  the  move 
ments  of  the  great  campaigns  of  Taylor 
and  Scott,  and  the  conduct  of  the  war, 
at  its  termination,  was  so  moderate  in 
imposing  the  conditions  of  peace  at  an 
early  moment,  that  much  of  the  oppo 
sition  to  its  commencement  was  happily 
neutralized.  The  immediate  settlement 
of  California,  and  its  brilliant  progress 
in  civilization,  under  the  stimulus  of  the 
gold  discovery,  have  also  thrown  a  halo 
over  the  war.  Its  ulterior  effects  are 
yet  to  be  read  in  history;  but,  what 
ever  be  the  result,  the  date  of  the  acqui 
sition  of  so  wide  a  region  of  territory 
bordering  upon  the  great  ocean  of  the 
West,  and  so  rounding  the  world  to  the 
fabled  regions  of  the  East,  and  its  influ 
ence  upon  the  welfare  of  countless 
numbers  of  the  human  race,  will  always 
mark  the  period  of  the  administration 
of  President  Polk.  Of  the  unexpected 
results  of  the  war,  probably  the  least 
looked  for  was  the  development  of  one 
of  its  least  known  officers  at  the  outset, 
into  his  successor  in  the  presidential 
chair.  President  Polk,  having  accom 
panied  General  Taylor  to  the  inaugural 
ceremonies  at  the  capitol  on  the  fifth 
of  "March,  1849,  retired  to  his  home  at 
Nashville,  taking  Charleston  and  New 
Orleans  by  the  way.  lie  made  the 
journey  in  safety,  though  an  attack  of 
diarrhoea,  in  his  ascent  of  the  Missis 
sippi,  and  the  inevitable  fatigue  of  tra 
vel,  probably  somewhat  enfeebled  his 


powers.  He  reached  home  to  occupy 
the  mansion  and  grounds  in  the  heart 
of  the  city,  formerly  occupied  by  Sena 
tor  Grundy,  of  which  he  had  become 
the  purchaser ;  but  he  was  not  destined 
to  enjoy  them  long.  An  attack  of  the 
chronic  diarrhsea  to  which  he  was  sub 
ject  proved  unmanageable  by  his  phy 
sicians,  and  after  a  few  days'  illness  his 
powers  of  life  were  exhausted.  His 
death  took  place  on  the  fifteenth  of 
June,  1849,  in  his  fifty-fourth  year,  little 
more  than  three  months  after  his  retire 
ment  from  the  Presidency. 

In  person  Mr.  Polk  was  spare,  of 
the  middle  height,  with  a  bright, 
expressive  eye,  and  ample,  angular 
forehead.  Of  his  personal  character 
we  may  cite  the  words  of  his  biog 
rapher:  "He  was  simple  and  plain  in 
all  his  habits.  His  private  life,  was 
upright  and  blameless.  Honesty  and 
integrity  characterized  his  intercourse 
with  his  fellow  men ;  fidelity  and  affec 
tion  his  relations  to  his  family.  In  his 
friendships  he  was  frank  and  sincere; 
and  courteous  and  affable  in  his  dispo 
sition.  He  was  generous  and  benevo 
lent  ;  but  his  charities,  like  his  charac 
ter,  were  unostentatious.  He  was  pious, 
too,  sincerely ;  his  wife  was  a  member 
of  the  Presbyterian  church,  but  he 
never  united  with  any  denomination, 
though  on  his  dying  bed  he  received 
the  rite  of  baptism  at  the  hands  of  a 
Methodist  clergyman,  an  old  neighbor 
and  friend." * 

1  The  Life  of  James  Knox  Polk,  by  John  S.  Jenkins. 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


OF  the  modern  heroes  of  America 
few  stand  out  so  simply  and  distinctly, 
so  "  clear  in  their  great  office,"  as  Gene 
ral  Zacliary  Taylor.  His  character  was 
of  remarkable  purity,  distinguished  by 
equal  worth  and  modesty.  When  he 
suddenly  became  celebrated  in  the 
Mexican  war,  it  was  found  that,  though 
unknown  to  fame,  he  had  deserved  re 
putation  by  his  gallant  conduct  in 
1812,  and  subsequently  in  Florida.  He 
was  known  and  respected  in  the  army ; 
but  there  had  been  no  blazon  of  his 
deeds  in  the  newspapers.  He  was  con 
tent  with  the  performance  of  his  duty. 
This  was  a  motto  and  reward  all  suffi 
cient  to  his  mind.  The  type  of  cha 
racter  which  distinguishes  him  is  that 
of  the  elder  worthies  of  the  Revolution, 
the  Scliuylers,  Moultries  and  Pinck- 
neys. 

Zachary  Taylor  was  born  in  Orange 
county,  Virginia,  November  24,  1784, 
of  a  family,  English  in  its  origin,  which 
had  long  been  settled  in  the  colony. 
His  father,  a  man  of  a  brave,  adventur 
ous  turn,  familiarly  known  among  his 
brother  pioneers  as  Captain  Dick  Tay 
lor,  emigrated  when  the  child  was  not 
a  year  old,  to  the  western  part  of  the 
State,  what  was  then  known  as  "  the 
dark  and  bloody  ground"  of  Indian 
strife — the  present  Kentucky.  There 
20 


the  boy  had  his  training  in  the  rude, 
hearty,  independent  pursuits  of  frontier 
life.  We  hear  something  of  his  school 
master,  the  approved  migratory  New 
England  pedagogue,  who,  when  his 
pupil  became  celebrated,  remembered 
him  as  "a  very  active  and  sensible 
boy."  Of  his  good  sense  we  have  no 
doubt,  for  it  was  a  quality  which 
marked  him  through  life ;  while,  of  his 
activity,  there  is  a  story  related  of  his 
younger  days,  of  his  swimming  across 
the  Ohio,  from  the  Kentucky  to  the 
Indiana  shore,  stemming  a  freezing 
flood  in  March. 

His  entry  in  the  army  dates  from 
that  memorable  period  of  the  attack 
of  the  Shannon  upon  the  Chesapeake, 
the  fountain  of  many  woes  and  glories 
in  the  national  annals.  His  father,  who 
was  something  of  a  politician,  procured 
him  the  appointment  from  Jefferson's 
administration  in  1808  of  lieutenant  in 
the  Seventh  United  States  infantry. 
He  thus  commenced  his  career  in  the 
regular  service.  Two  years  later  the 
young  man  is  married  to  Miss  Margaret 
Smith  of  Maryland.  Immediately  upon 
the  declaration  of  war  with  England  in 
1812,  we  find  him  engaged  under  Gen 
eral  Harrison  in  the  protection  of  the 
northwestern  territory  against  the  at 
tacks  of  the  Indians.  His  defence,  in 

153 


154 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


that  year,  of  Fort  Harrison,  on  the 
Wabash,  in  the  territory  of  Indiana, 
against  an  attack  of  the  Mianris,  is 
one  of  the  memorable  incidents  of  the 
war.  This  fort,  built  by  the  general 
whose  name  it  bears,  was  situated  on 
the  upper  part  of  the  river,  above  the 
present  town  of  Terre  Haute.  It  was 
defended  by  pickets  on  three  sides, 
with  a  row  of  barracks  and  a  block 
house  at  either  end  on  the  'fourth. 
Captain  Taylor  was  left  in  charge  of 
the  work  with  a  small  company  of 
men,  in  the  words  of  his  dispatch  to 
General  Harrison,  "  not  more  than  ten 
or  fifteen  able  to  do  a  great  deal,  the 
others  being  either  sick  or  convales 
cent."  He  had  warning  of  the  threat 
ened  approach  of  a  party  of  the  Pro 
phet's  men — the  attack  belonging  to 
that  series  of  movements  instigated  by 
Tecumseh  and  his  brother — and  though 
for  some  time  he  had  not  considered 
the  post  tenable  against  a  large  force, 
he  prepared  to  defend  it  to  the  best  of 
his  ability.  On  the  third  of  September, 
two  young  men,  making  hay  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  fort,  were  picked 
off  by  the  Indians,  and  the  next  night 
they  came  in  numbers  to  the  assault. 
They  began  by  firing  one  of  the 
block-houses,  which  endangered  the 
whole  line  of  barracks.  Captain  Tay 
lor,  almost  disabled  from  a  severe 
fever,  rallied  his  little  force  of  invalids 
to  extinguish  it,  but  the  fire  having 
communicated  to  a  stock  of  whisky  in 
the  building,  soon  ascended  to  the  roof, 
and  his  efforts  had  to  be  directed  to 
the  adjoining  houses.  The  situation 
was  desperate.  In  his  own  simple 
words',  u  Sir,  what  from  the  raging  of 


the  fire,  the  yelling  and  howling  of 
several  hundred  Indians,  the  cries  of 
nine  women  and  children,  part  sol 
diers'  and  part  citizens'  wives,  who  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  fort,  and  the  de 
sponding  of  so  many  men,  which  was 
worse  than  all,  I  can  assure  you  that 
my  feelings  were  unpleasant."  But,  by 
his  own  energy,  and  the  assistance  of 
Surgeon  Clark,  the  only  one  to  aid  him 
in  the  command,  the  roof  was  stripped 
from  the  next  building  and  water  from 
the  well  applied  to  the  exposed  por 
tions.  The  line  was  saved,  and  the 
open  space  of  the  fire  defended  by  a 
temporary  breastwork.  All  this  was 
done  under  the  enemy's  fire  of  bullets 
and  arrows,  lasting  for  seven  hours,  the 
flames  lighting  up  the  men  at  work  as 
marks  for  the  hostile  missiles.  When 
daylight  came  the  fire  was  returned 
with  effect,  and  the  Indians  took  their 
departure,  slaughtering  the  horses  in 
the  vicinity,  and  driving  off  a  large 
stock  of  cattle ;  what  with  this  and  the 
stores  lost  in  the  conflagration,  leaving 
the  garrison  to  a  diet  of  green  corn. 
For  this  spirited  defence,  President 
Madison  conferred  upon  Taylor  the 
brevet  rank  of  major. 

On  the  reorganization  of  the  army 
after  the  peace,  it  was  proposed  to  de 
prive  him  of  this  rank,  which  he  re 
sented,  and  would  have  retired  to  an 
agricultural  life  had  not  the  govern 
ment,  by  yielding,  retained  him  in  the 
army.  He  was  employed  in  the  Indian 
service  in  various  ways,  and  in  the 
Black  Hawk  war  of  1832  appears  in 
the  field,  taking  an  active  part  as  colo 
nel  in  the  concluding  battle  of  the  Bad 
Axe  river.  His  next  scene  of  opera- 


ZACIIAUY    TAVLOIl. 


155 


was  the  Florida  war,  a  field  of 
irre.-iter  difficulty  than  glory.  He  was 
ordered  to  this  service  in  1836,  and  in 
•inber  of  the  following  year  led  an 
expedition  of  about  a  thousand  men,  a 
few  volunteers  and  the  rest  regulars, 
from  Fort  Gardiner  toward  Lake  Oke- 
chobee,  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  which  the  enemy,  some  seven  hun 
dred  strong,  were  encamped  in  a  ham 
mock.  As  the  place  was  approached, 
it  was  found  to  be  protected  in  front 
by  a  swamp  three  quarters  of  a  mile  in 
breadth.  It  was  "totally  impassable 
for  horses,  and  nearly  so  for  foot,  cov 
ered  with  a  thick  growth  of  saw-errass 

o  o 

five  feet  high,  and  about  knee  deep  in 
mud  and  water."  This  was  to  be 
crossed  to  get  within  range  of  the  foe, 
who  fought  from  behind  trees  with 
every  advantage  of  position.  In  the 
arrangement  of  the  attack,  the  volun 
teers  were  sent  forward  with  directions 
to  fall  back,  if  necessary,  while  the 
regulars  would  sustain  them.  They 
advanced,  were  fired  upon,  their  com 
mander  Colonel  Gentry  of  Missouri 
slain,  when  they  retreated.  The  regu 
lars  then  made  their  way  through  the 
high,  stiff  grass,  suffering  heavy  losses ; 
the  place  of  the  fallen  was  succeeded 
by  others,  and  the  enemy  finally  driven 
to  the  lake  in  confusion.  The  action 
lasted  from  half-past  twelve  till  three 
KM.  It  was  one  of  the  important  vic 
tories  of  the  war,  it  being  exceedingly 
difficult  to  get  the  Indians  to  stand  in 
battle  in  any  numbers.  Here  nothing 
but  the  most  tried  valor  could  prevail 
against  them.  Colonel  Taylor's  loss 
was  very  heavy,  both  in  officers,  as  was 
usual  in  this  war,  and  in  men.  In  his 


dispatch,  he  stops  to  express  his  feeling 
for  the  wounded.  "  Here,"  says  he,  "  I 
trust  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  I 
experienced  one  of  the  most  trying 
scenes  of  my  life,  and  he  who  could 
have  looked  on  it  with  indifference,  his 
nerves  must  have  been  differently  or 
ganized  from  my  own." 

His  management  of  this  affair  and 
general  efficiency  in  the  campaign  were 
rewarded  with  the  brevet  rank  of  bri 
gadier-general,  and  shortly  after  with 
the  chief  command  in  the  State,  which 
he  held  till  the  arrival  of  General 
Macomb.  General  Taylor's  plan  was  to 
divide  the  whole  region  into  a  series  of 
military  districts,  each  presided  over  by 
a  fort  or  stockade,  whence  the  troops 
might  take  the  aggressive  on  occasion. 
He  was  employed  in  Florida  two  years 
later  till  1840,  when  he  was  assigned  to 
the  command  of  the  southwestern  divi 
sion  of  the  army,  and  had  his  head 
quarters  at  Fort  Jesup,  Louisiana.  This 
brought  him  within  the  line  of  employ 
ment  in  Texas,  when,  on  the  annexation 
of  that  country  to  the  United  States,  it 
!  became  necessary  to  protect  her  west 
ern  frontier  from  Mexican  invasion. 
He  was  consequently  ordered  to  the 
district  in  June,  1845,  and  immediately 
established  his  headquarters  at  Corpus 
Christi,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Nueces, 
at  its  mouth.  There  the  "  army  of  ob 
servation"  gradually  augmented,  with 
the  progress  of  war  alarms,  to  a  force 
of  nearly  four  thousand  men,  the  "  army 
of  occupation,"  remained  many  months, 
till  March  of  the  following  year,  when 
its  commander  received  directions  to 
advance  to  the  ultimate  boundary,  the 
Rio  Grande.  The  march  of  seventeen 


156 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


days  was  made  across  the  intervening 
desert,  meeting  with  no  opposition  of 
consequence  up  to  the  time  of  arrival  at 
the  point  of  the  river  opposite  Mata- 
moras,  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  the 
month.  A  nag-staff  was  immediately 
erected  on  the  spot,  and  the  American 
ensign  raised,  as  the  bands  played  the 
national  airs  "  Yankee  Doodle "  and 
"The  Star-spangled  Banner."  This  vi 
cinity  was  destined  to  be  the  scene  of 
several  formidable  conflicts.  We  shall 
not  trench  upon  the  province  of  history 
to  pursue  the  movements  here  with  any 
great  minuteness ;  but  shall  touch  light 
ly  upon  the  main  incidents  of  the  cam 
paign,  which  leads  us  over  the  battle 
fields  of  Palo  Alto,  Resaca  de  la  Palma, 
to  the  storming  of  Monterey  and  the 
great  struggle  at  Buena  Vista, 

The  place  at  which  the  army  first 
rested  was  within  sight  of  the  enemy's 
headquarters  at  Matamoras,  separated 
only  by  the  intervening  river.  There 
having  taken  his  station,  and,  as  he  told 
the  Mexican  authorities,  in  accordance 
with  the  instructions  of  his  government, 
being  determined  to  remain,  the  first 
employment  of  General  Taylor,  of 
course,  was  to  provide  some  adequate 
defences — the  more  as  he  was  in  face 
of  a  considerable  body  of  the  foe,  to 
whom  large  reinforcements,  commanded 
by  experienced  generals,  were  already 
on  the  way,  and  war  was  no  longer  a 
matter  of  uncertainty.  A  camp  was 
established,  and  the  extensive  work, 
Fort  Brown,  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
commanding  the  opposite  town,  com 
menced.  Point  Isabel,  a  day's  march 
distant  in  the  rear,  on  the  coast,  the 
first  harbor  to  the  north  of  the  Kio 


Grande,  was  the  depot  for  supplies. 
General  Taylor  in  his  advance  had 
taken  possession  of  this  place,  and  left 
a  small  garrison  for  its  protection.  On 
the  twelfth  of  April,  General  Ampudia, 
having  arrived  at  Matamoras  with  rein 
forcements,  and  taken  the  command, 
addressed  a  communication  to  General 
Taylor,  requiring  him  within  twenty- 
four  hours  to  retire  to  the  Nueces  while 
the  Texas  question  was  under  discus 
sion  between  the  two  governments,  or 
accept  the  alternative  of  a  resort  to 
arms.  To  this  the  American  com 
mander  replied,  that  he  had  been  or 
dered  to  occupy  the  country  to  the  left 
bank  of  the  Rio  Grande  till  the  boun 
dary  should  be  definitely  settled ;  that 
in  discharging  this  duty,  he  had  care 
fully  abstained  from  all  acts  of  hostility, 
and  that  the  instructions  under  which 
he  was  acting  would  not  permit  him  to 
retrograde  from  the  position  he  occu 
pied  ;  and  as  for  war,  while  he  regretted 
the  alternative,  he  should  not  avoid  it, 
but  "  leave  the  responsibility  with  those 
who  rashly  commence  hostilities." 

After  this  the  military  proceedings 
thickened  apace.  The  right  bank  of  the 
river,  above  and  below  the  camp, 
swarmed  with  the  irregular  troops  of 
the  enemy.  Colonel  Trueman  Cross,  as 
sistant  quartermaster-general,  already, 
on  the  tenth,  had  been  murdered,  as  he 
was  taking  his  usual  ride  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  the  camp.  On  the  twenty- 
fourth  a  communication  came  from  Gen 
eral  Arista,  who  had  succeeded  Ampudia 
in  the  command,  conveying  a  further 
declaration  of  hostilities ;  and  simulta 
neously  word  reached  the  camp  of  the 
crossing  of  the  enemy  in  considerable 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


157 


numbers.  Captain  Thornton,  sent  above 
(connoitre,  was  erarpxued  in  a  plan 
tation  inclosure,  and  his  little  force  cap 
tured.  Below,  Point  Isabel  was  in  dan 
ger  of  being  cut  off,  an  obvious  move 
ment  of  the  enemy,  which  required  all 
the  vigilance  of  General  Taylor  to  coun 
teract.  Leaving,  accordingly,  a  sufficient 
garrison  for  the  defence  of  Fort  Brown, 
he  set  out,  on  the  first  of  May,  with  the 
main  body  of  his  troops,  for  the  relief 
of  that  important  station.  lie  arrived 
at  the  place  without  interruption,  ac 
complished  his  purpose  in  adding  to  its 
strength,  and,  on  the  seventh,  invited 
by  the  signal  guns  of  Fort  Brown, 
which  was  suffering  a  bombardment, 
began  his  return,  with  about  twenty- 
two  hundred  men,  bringing  with  him 
two  eighteen-pounders,  in  addition  to 
the  artillery  he  had  taken  with  him, 
and  a  large  train  of  wagons.  About 
noon  on  the  following  day,  the  Mexican 
troops  were  reported  in  front,  and  were 
soon  found  occupying  the  road,  on  an 
open  prairie  skirted  by  a  growth  of 
chaparral. 

This  was  the  field  of  Palo  Alto, 
so  named  from  the  thickets  rising 
above  the  general  level.  The  Mexi 
cans,  six  thousand  in  number,  com 
manded  by  General  Arista,  were  drawn 
up  in  a  single  line,  "  artillery,  infantry 
and  cavalry  placed  alternately,  forming 
a  living  wall  more  than  a  mile  in  ex 
tent,  of  physical  strength,  of  steel  and 
latent  fire."1  The  American  force  was 
di>posed  by  General  Taylor  with  lesrf 
regularity,  but  mostly  in  a  parallel  out 
line.  The  right  wing,  comprising  the 

1  Thorpe's  "  Our  Army  on  the  Rio  Grande,"  p.  74. 


larger  part  of  the  force,  including  Ring- 
gold's  artillery  and  the  eighteen-pound- 
crs,  was  under  the  orders  of  Colonel 
Twiggs;  the  left  was  commanded  by 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Belknap.  The  train 
was  protected  by  a  squadron  of  dra 
goons  in  the  rear.  Having  made  these 
arrangements,  General  Taylor  coolly 
directed  the  men  to  stack  their  arms, 
march  in  companies,  and  supply  them 
selves  with  the  fresh  water  of  the  ad 
joining  ponds  in  place  of  the  brackish 
water  with  which  they  had  been  fur 
nished  at  Point  Isabel.  The  columns 
then  advanced,  when  the  engagement 
was  commenced,  shortly  after  two  in 
the  afternoon,  by  the  Mexican  batte 
ries.  This  fire  was  promptly  met  by 
the  whole  American  artillery,  the  eight 
een-pounders,  drawn  up  in  the  road, 
and  Ringgold's  pieces  doing  eminent 
execution.  An  important  movement 
of  the  enemy's  cavalry,  fifteen  hundred 
strong,  led  by  General  Torrejon,  on  the 
right,  threatening  the  flank,  was  de 
feated  by  the  fifth  infantry,  the  flying 
artillery  and  Captain  Walker's  Texan 
volunteers.  While  this  was  proceeding, 
the  dry  grass  of  the  prairie  took  fire 
and  swept  a  volume  of  smoke  over  the 
field,  partially  concealing  the  armies 
from  one  another.  Under  cover  of  this 
obscuration,  the  line  of  the  enemy, 
which  had  suffered  from  the  artillery, 
was  reformed  in  the  rear  of  its  first 
position,  and  the  American  correspond 
ingly  advanced.  After  a  pause  of 
about  an  hour,  the  fire  was  reopened, 
the  action  being  confined  chiefly  to  the 
artillery  on  both  sides.  The  superi 
ority  of  the  American  fire  was  un 
doubted  ;  but  it  was  dearly  purchased, 


158 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


by  the  loss  of  the  gallant  Major  Ring- 
gold,  whose  name  is  identified  with  this 
effective  arm  of  the  service.  The  day 
closed  with  a  brilliant  attack  from  the 
enemy's  right,  which  was  met  with 
great  spirit  by  Captain  Duncan's  artil 
lery.  In  the  darkness  of  the  evening 
the  enemy  retired  to  a  new  position, 
and  the  wearied  Americans  slept  on 
their  battle-field,  their  general  spreading 
his  blanket  on  the  grass  in  the  midst  of 
the  troops.  The  loss  of  the  Mexicans 
was  much  heavier  than  that  of  our  own 
forces;  the  commander  of  the  former 
reporting  two  hundred  and  fifty-two 
killed,  wounded  and  missing,  while 
General  Taylor's  dispatch  numbers  only 
seven  killed,  including  three  officers, 
and  thirty-nine  wounded — an  apparent 
ly  small  number  of  either  army,  consi 
dering  the  strength  on  both  sides  of 
the  artillery  and  the  skill  with  which 
it  was  served  on  a  level  plain. 

The  next  day  brought  the  battle  of 
Resaca  de  la  Palma.  Early  in  the 
morning  the  enemy  had  retired  toward 
Matamoras,  to  a  strong  position  at  a 
ravine,  crossed  by  the  road  and  sur 
rounded  by  a  thick  growth  of  chaparral. 
The  approach  on  the  highway  was  de 
fended  by  a  strongly  posted  force  of  ar 
tillery.  Thither  the  foe  were  pursued  by 
General  Taylor,  who,  spite  of  the  supe 
riority  of  numbers  confronting  him,  ex 
pressed  his  determination  to  be  at  Fort 
Brown  before  night.  Having  provided 
for  the  safety  of  the  supply-train,  he 
commenced  the  attack  about  three  in 
the  afternoon,  by  advancing  a  large 
body  of  skirmishers  and  the  battery 
of  Lieutenant  Ridgely.  The  latter  took 
up  a  position  on  the  road.  Owing  to 


the  nature  of  the  ground,  the  engage 
ment  which  ensued  was  of  an  entirely 
different  character  from  that  of  the 
preceding  day.  The  enemy  were  shel 
tered  by  the  ravine  on  both  its  sides. 
The  growth  in  front,  beside  the  pro 
tection  of  the  rising  ground,  impeded 
the  free  play  of  the  American  artil 
lery.  As  the  enemy's  cannon  com 
manded  the  only  accessible  approach 
by  the  road,  it  became  evident  to  Gen 
eral  Taylor,  after  sending  forward  his 
infantry,  that  however  the  latter  might 
discharge  their  duty — and  they  did 
make,  in  his  own  language,  "  resistless 
progress" — nothing  decisive  could  be 
accomplished  till  that  fire  was  silenced. 
He  consequently  sent  to  the  rear  for 
the  gallant  Captain  May  and  his  dra 
goons,  and  committed  to  them  the  work. 
"You  must  charge  the  enemies'  batte 
ries,  and  take  them,"  was  the  general's 
language.  "  I  will  do  it,"  was  May's 
response.  And,  ardent  as  the  onset  of 
the  six  hundred  at  Balaclava,  "  into  the 
jaws  of  death,"  but  not  so  purposeless, 
sped  the  brave  captain  and  his  troop. 
Waiting  a  few  moments  for  Ridgely  at 
his  battery,  three  hundred  yards  dis 
tant,  to  draw  the  fire  of  the  enemy's 
artillery,  he  galloped  furiously  over  the 
road,  followed  by  his  company,  to  re 
ceive  the  fire  of  the  inner  battery,  which 
levelled  at  one  discharge  eighteen  horses 
and  seven  men  of  his  troop,  Lieutenant 
Inge,  one  of  the  number,  at  his  side. 
But  the  battery  was  swept  of  its  de 
fenders  ;  and  though  May,  unsupported 
by  infantry,  exposed  as  he  was  to  a 
shower  of  grape  and  musketry,  was 
compelled  to  retire,  he  fought  his  way 
out  of  the  mass  of  the  foe,  bringing 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


l.Vt 


with  liiiD  to  the  camp  an  eminent 
prisoner  of  war,  General  La  Vega,  a 
brave  officer,  whom  lie  had  found  the 
last  at  the  guns,  rallying  his  flying  sol 
diers  to  their  duty.  Infantry  were 
meanwhile  ordered  up,  and  the  advant 
age  of  the  charge  secured  in  driving  the 
enemy  from  their  artillery  on  the  left. 
On  the  right  a  breastwork  was  stormed, 
its  gun  taken,  and  other  successes  achiev 
ed,  completing  the  rout  in  this  quarter, 
including  the  capture  of  the  general's 
camp,  with  •  all  his  official  correspond 
ence.  The  artillery  battalion  left  to 
guard  the  train,  with  other  forces,  were 
now  ordered  in  pursuit,  and  the  flying 
army  was  driven  to  the  river,  where 
many  perished  in  the  attempt  to  escape. 
"  In  the  camp  of  the  army,"  says  an  in 
teresting  narrator  of  these  scenes,  "  were 
found  the  preparations  for  a  great  festi 
val,  no  doubt  to  follow  the  expected 
victory.  The  camp-kettles  were  sim« 
mering  over  the  fires,  filled^vith  savory 
viands,  off  of  which  our  troops  made  a 
plentiful  evening  meal.  In  the  road 
were  carcasses  of  half-skinned  oxen. 
The  hangers-on  of  the  camp,  while  the 
battle  was  raging,  were  busy  in  their 
feast-preparing  work,  unconscious  of 
dangers,  when,  on  an  instant,  a  sudden 
panic  must  have  seized  them,  and  they 
fled,  leaving  their  half-completed  la 
bors  to  be  consummated  by  our  own 
troops." 1 

Seventeen  hundred  was  the  number 
of  General  Taylor's  force  engaged  with 
the  Mexicans.  His  loss  was  three  offi 
cers,  Lieutenants  Inge,  Cochrane  and 
Chadbourne,  and  thirty-six  men  killed  ; 

1  Thorpe's  "Our  Army  on  tin-  Rif   Grande,"  p.  104. 


twelve  officers  and  seventy  men  wound 
ed.  General  Tayloy,  in  his  dispatch, 
estimated  the  Mexican  loss,  killed, 
wounded  and  missing,  during  the  two 
days,  at  not  less  than  one  thousand 
men.  In  a  dispatch  from  the  field  that 
niecht,  he  wrote  with  characteristic  sim- 

O         ' 

plicity :  "  The  affair  of  to-day  may  be 
regarded  as  a  proper  supplement  to  the 
cannonade  of  yesterday ;  and  the  two 
taken  together  exhibit  the  coolness  and 
gallantry  of  our  officers  and  men  in  the 
most  favorable  light.  All  have  done 
their  duty,  and  done  it  nobly."  A  few 
days,  in  a  fuller  report,  he  added: 
"  Our  victory  has  been  decisive.  A 
small  force  has  overcome  immense  odds 
of  the  best  troops  that  Mexico  can 
furnish — veteran  regiments,  perfectly 
equipped  and  appointed.  Eight  pieces 
of  artillery,  several  colors  and  stand 
ards,  a  great  number  of  prisoners,  in 
cluding  fourteen  Officers,  and  a  large 
amount  of  baggage  and  public  property, 
have  fallen  into  our  hands." 

This  decided  success  established  the 
fortunes  of  General  Taylor's  Mexican 
campaign.  Everything  had  been  put 
to  the  hazard,  and  everything  gained. 
The  force  which  he  commanded,  large 
enough  for  resistance,  too  small,  appa 
rently,  for  conquest,  invited  the  attack 
of  the  superior  hosts.  Victory  ap 
peared  an  easy  matter  to  the  Mexican 
general,  who  had  the  choice  of  the 
ground,  and  who  was  enabled  to  divide 
the  little  American  army  between  the 
field  and  the  fort.  His  supplies  were 
at  hand  in  a  considerable  city  with  a 
chain  of  towns  in  its  rear,  reaching  into 
the  heart  of  the  country.  He  had  made 
every  calculation  for  success.  While  he 


160 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


was  attacking  the  Americans  on  their 
march  by  a  well-planned  military  move 
ment,  the  batteries  of  Matamoras  were 
at  work  on  Fort  Brown.  One  thing 
only  was  wanting  to  his  forces,  the  des 
perate  courage  for  an  assault.  If  this 
nerve  of  the  bayonet  had  been  supplied, 
Arista  might,  with  his  numbers  and 
resources,  have  done  with  ease  what 
Jackson  and  his  defenders  at  New  Or 
leans  so  bravely  accomplished,  and 
swept  his  enemies  into  the  sea.  But 
he  had  other  stuff  in  his  ranks. 

If  the  Mexicans  at  the  outset  were 
naturally  confident  of  success,  the  Ame 
ricans  at  home  trembled  for  the  fate  of 
General  Taylor's  expedition,  and  the 
moral  effect  of  his  victory,  in  the  same 
proportion,  disheartened  the  one  and 
elevated  the  other.  The  brave  troops 
on  the  Rio  Grande,  it  was  felt,  had  re 
paired  the  over  confidence  of  the  ad 
ministration  at  Washington.  General 
Taylor  had  achieved  not  only  a  military 
success,  but  he  had  rescued  the  country 
from  the  risk  of  disgrace.  Nothing 
3ould  have  been  better  contrived  than 
the  unintentional  conduct  of  the  go 
vernment,  for  the  creation  of  a  hero. 
The  American  general  was  placed  in  a 
position  where  the  greatest  glory  was 
to  be  reached  with  the  smallest  com 
mand. 

The  Mexican  army  was  completely 
disorganized  at  Matamoras.  Their  can 
nonading  of  Fort  Brown  had  ceased 
with  the  defeat  of  their  army,  and  little 
was  to  be  thought  of  but  surrender. 
General  Taylor  was  soon  on  hand  to 
hasten  the  movement.  After  the  duty 
to  the  dead  and  wounded  had  been 
performed,  he  proceeded  to  Point  Isa 


bel  to  confer  with  Commodore  Conner, 
who  had  brought  up  his  fleet  to  the 
assistance  of  the  imperilled  little  army. 
The  story  is,  that  the  etiquette  of  this 
meeting  severely  taxed  the  resources  of 
the  brave  general's  wardrobe.  Long 
accustomed  to  frontier  warfare  and  pro 
tracted  Indian  campaigns,  where  there 
was  more  rough  labor  to  be  performed 
than  military  pomp  to  be  indulged,  Old 
Zach,  as  he  was  affectionately  and  fami 
liarly  called,  had  adapted  his  dress  to 
the  exigency  of  the  climate  and  service. 
His  linen  roundabout  was  far  better 
known  in  the  camp  than  his  uniform. 
Thinking,  however,  that  something  was 
due  from  the  commander-in- chief  of  the 
army  to  the  head  of  the  navy,  who  was 
understood  to  be  punctilious  in  dress, 
he  painfully  arrayed  himself  in  the  re 
gulation  coat,  fished  from  the  depths  of 
his  chest;  while  the  gallant  commodore, 
knowing  the  habits  of  the  general,  in 
an  equally<£enerous  spirit  of  concession, 
clothed  himself  for  the  interview  in  a 
simple  suit  of  drilling.  After  this,  it 
is  said,  Old  Zach  returned  more  sedu 
lously  than  ever  to  his  wonted  simpli 
city  of  attire.  All  his  habits,  indeed, 
partook  of  the  same  plain  convenience. 
Hardy  and  unostentatious  in  his  mode 
of  living,  he  was  accustomed  to  the 
rough  fare  of  the  camp  and  an  .unpre 
tending  tent  sufficed  for  the  dignity  of 
his  headquarters. 

The  proper  arrangements  having  been 
made  at  Point  Isabel,  General  Taylor 
hastened  again  to  the  camp  over  a  road 
no  longer  interrupted  by  Arista  and  his 
host.  His  next  movement  was  to  take 
possession  of  Matamoras,  peaceably  if 
he  could,  forcibly  if  he  must.  Upon 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


K51 


his  making  his  preparations  for  the 
latter,  the  discreet  course  appeared 
preferable  to  the  Mexicans,  and  the 
town  was  given  up,  on  the  eighteenth 
of  the  month,  to  the  army  of  occupa 
tion.  Arista  had  fled,  with  such  of  his 
troops  as  were  in  a  condition  to  travel, 
leaving  the  place  to  the  hostilities  of 
the  Americans,  which  proved  much 
kinder  than  the  tender  mercies  of  the 
defenders. 

The  summer  was  passed  by  General 
Taylor  at  Matamoras,  receiving  the 
recruits,  who,  summoned  by  the  first 
signal  of  danger,  were  now  pouring  to 
the  Rio  Grande.  The  means  of  ad 
vance  had  also  to  be  collected,  and  the 
force  organized  to  pursue  the  enemy  in 
the  interior.  Monterey  to  the  west,  at 
the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Madre,  where 
General  Ampudia,  who  .had  succeeded 
Arista  in  the  command,  had  established 
hirnself.with  a  considerable  body  of 
troops,  was  the  first  object  of  attack. 
Sending  forward  his  forces  by  the  Rio 
Grande  to  Camargo,  General  Taylor 
thence  pursued  his  way  across  the 
desert,  reaching  the  San  Juan,  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  Monterey, 
on  the  nineteenth  of  September.  From 
that  moment  the  brave  and  toilsome 
operations  of  the  attack,  which  was  con- 
tiuued  for  five  days,  may  be  said  to  have 
commenced.  The  town,  thoroughly  ca 
pable  of  defence,  was  manned  by  a  gar 
rison  of  ten  thousand  men,  more  than 
t\\-<  >-thirds  of  whom  were  regular  troops, 
with  a  defence  of  forty-two  pieces  of 
cannon ;  its  outworks  were  important, 
and  the  most  extensive  preparations  of 
barricades  and  batteries  were  made 
within.  The  entire  force  General  Tay- 

21 


lor  brought  against  it,  numbered  six 

thousand,  six  hundred  and  seventy-five. 

lie  had  no  siege  train,  which  might  be 

thought  indispensable  to  the  work  he 

was  about  to  undertake,  and  an  artillery 

force  of  only  one  ten-inch  mortar,  two 

'  twenty-four    pounder    howitzers,    and 

;  four  light  field  batteries  of  four  guns 

each. 

The  first  observation  of  the  town 
convinced  General  Taylor  that  it 
might  be  turned  on  its  westerly  side, 
where  the  only  means  of  eseape  to  its 
occupants  lay  in  the  road  to  Saltillo. 
There  were  important  detached  works 
on  that  side,  but  the  main  defences 
were  in  the  citadel  on  the  north,  the 
rwer  and  a  series  of  redoubts  on  the 
southerly  and  easterly  approaches.  The 
reconnaisance  was  made  after  General 
Taylor's  arrival  on  the  nineteenth ;  on 
the  twentieth,  General  Worth  moved 
with  his  command  toward  the  Saltillo 
road  to  carry  out  the  plan  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief.  The  latter  himself 
directed  the  proceedings  on  the  east. 
The  main  points,  and  they  were  highly 
important  ones,  accomplished  by  Gene 
ral  Worth  on  that  day  of  hard  fighting, 
the  twenty-first,  were  the  occupation 
of  the  road,  and  the  storming  of  the 
works  at  the  heights,  adjacent  to  the 
city  on  the  west.  Turning  to  General 
Taylor's  special  command,  we  find  him 
at  the  same  time  directing  an  attack 

O 

on  the  opposite  side  of  the  town,  which 
was  conducted  with  such  gallantly,  in 
the  face  of  a  murderous  cross-fire  from 
the  forts,  that  the  streets  of  the  city 
were  gained,  and  the  roof  of  one  of  its 
buildings  taken  advantage  of  to  assail 
with  musketry  the  defenders  of  the 


162 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


fort  commanding  this  approach,  wliicli 
was  also  attacked  from  tlie  outer  side. 
Under  this  combination  the  fort  fell. 
It  was  the  important  success  of  the 
day. 

In  General  Taylor's  words,  "the 
main  object  proposed  in  the  morning 
had  been  eifected.  A  powerful  diver 
sion  had  been  made  to  favor  the  opera 
tions  of  the  second  division  (General 
Worth's) ;  one  of  the  enemy's  advanced 
works  had  been  carried,  and  we  now 
had  a  strong  foothold  in  the  town." 
The  loss  in  achieving  this  result,  may 
indicate  the  gallantry  with  which  it 
was  accomplished.  The  number  killed 
and  wounded,  in  these  operations  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  city  that  day,  WAS 
three  hundred  and  ninety-four.  The 
next,  the  twenty-second,  saw  the  com 
pletion  of  General  Worth's  design  in 
the  capture  of  the  Bishop's  Palace  on 
Independence  Hill,  that  work  being 
commanded  by  the  position  he  had 
stormed  the  day  before.  General  Tay 
lor  employed  the  day  in  relieving  his 
troops  who  had  passed  the  night  on 
the  lower  side  of  the  town,  and  main 
taining  his  advantages  in  that  quarter. 
It  was  now  evident  that  the  city,  being 
commanded  from  either  end,  must  in 
due  time  surrender.  The  military  event 
of  the  twenty-third,  the  third  great 
day  of  the  siege,  was  the  advance  into 
the  town  of  the  volunteers  under  Gen 
erals  Quitman  and  Henderson,  sup 
ported  by  Captain  Bragg's  battery. 
From  house  to  house,  from  square  to 
square,  the  advance  against  the  strong 
barriers  was  gained  by  musketry  from 
the  roofs,  by  grape-shot  in  the  streets, 
to  a  position  but  a  single  square  dis 


tant  from  the  principal  plaza,  where 
the  enemy's  force  was  mainly  concen 
trated. 

A  similar  advance  was  made  into 
the  city  from  the  opposite  side  by 
General  Worth.  The  work  of  the  next 
day,  had  it  been  necessary  to  continue 
the  assault,  would  have  been  a  last, 
short,  bloody,  decisive  struggle.  For 
tunately,  it  was  spared  by  a  capitula 
tion.  The  outcries  of  the  townspeople, 
no  less  than  the  necessities  of  the  gar 
rison,  compelled  the  surrender.  On 
the  morning  of  the  twenty-fourth,  a 
communication  was  received  by  Gene 
ral  Taylor  from  General  Ampudia, 
stating  that  having  made  the  defence 
of  which  he  thought  the  city  suscepti 
ble,  he  had  "fulfilled  his  duty,  and 
satisfied  that  military  honor  which,  in 
a  certain  manner,  is  common  to  all 
armies  of  the  civilized  world."  To" 
continue  the  defence,  he  sai4,  would 
only  be  further  to  distress  the  pop 
ulation  which  had  suffered  enough 
already:  he,  therefore,  proposed  to 
evacuate  the  city  and  fort,  carrying 
with  him  the  personnel  and  materiel  of 
war.  In  answer  to  this,  a  complete 
surrender  of  the  town  and  garrison  as 
prisoners  of  war  was  demanded;  but 
such  surrender,  it  was  added,  would  be 
upon  terms  recognizing  by  their  libe 
rality  "  the  gallant  defence  of  the  place, 
creditable  alike  to  the  Mexican  troops 
and  nation."  The  hour  of  twelve  was 
appointed  to  determine  the  question. 
At  that  time  the  two  chiefs  met  to 
'  arrange  the  terms  of  surrender.  Gen 
eral  Ampudia,  not  satisfied  with  the 
proposition  offered,  insisted  upon  his 
original  conditions;  and  General  Tay- 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


163 


lor,  who  had  made  up  his  mind,  was  in 
consequence  on  the  point  of  breaking 
up  the  conference,  when  a  suggestion 
was  offered  and  reluctantly  accepted 
by  him,  to  refer  the  negotiation  to  a 
body  of  commissioners  on  both  sides. 
General  Worth,  General  Henderson, 
and  Colonel  Jefferson  Davis  acted  for 
the  Americans.  With  some  difficulty 
the  terms  were  arranged.  The  town 
and  citadel,  with  the  arms  and  muni 
tions  of  war  were  surrendered,  the 
Mexican  forces  to  retire — the  officers 
with  their  side  arms,  the  cavalry  with 
their  arms  and  accoutrements,  the  artil 
lery  with  one  field  battery — within 
seven  days  beyond  the  line  formed  by 
the  pass  of  Linconada,  the  city  of 
Linares  and  San  Fernando  de  Preras; 
and  an  armistice  of  eight  weeks  to  be 
entered  upon.  The  Mexican  flag,  when 
struck  at  the  citadel,  was  to  be  saluted 
by  its  own  battery.  That  ceremony 
was  pel-formed  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-fifth.  The  American  flag  was 

»  o 

unfolded,  and  the  Mexican  troops  took 
their  departure.  It  was  a  brilliant  suc 
cess  in  the  taking  of  a  town.  Its  cost, 
as  summed  up  by  General  Taylor  in 
his  dispatch,  was  twelve  officers  and 
one  hundred  and  eight  men  killed ; 
thirty-one  officers  and  three  hundred 
and  thirty-seven  men  wounded. 

It  was  thought  by  the  government 
at  Washington  that  too  favorable  terms 
had  been  allowed  the  enemy  in  the 
capitulation,  that  their  surrender  should 
have  been  unconditional,  and  that  the 
armistice  should  not  have  been  granted. 

o 

But  those  who  made  the  negotiation 
were  governed  by  sound  motives,  both 
of  policy  and  humanity.  They  might, 


indeed,  have  completed  the  conquest  at 
the  plaza  and  taken  the  citadel;  but  it 
would  have  been  at  an  enormous  cost 
of  life,  both  to  victors  and  vanquished  ; 
much  property  would  have  been  de 
stroyed  which  was  saved  by  the  nego 
tiation  ;  nor  had  General  Taylor  a  force 
sufficient  to  guard  all  the  avenues  of 
escape  to  so  great  a  body  of  men. 
Moreover,  the  prospect  of  peace  was 
urged  by  the  Mexican  General  in  con 
sequence  of  the  return  of  Santa  Anna, 
which  had  been  more  than  winked  at, 
with  this  view,  by  the  American  gov 
ernment  itself,  which  had  indeed  pre 
viously  proffered  peace  negotiations. 
As  for  the  armistice,  the  little  army  at 
Monterey  was  at  any  rate  unable  to 
move  for  some  time,  until  reinforce 
ments  should  arrive,  upon  any  further 
considerable  expedition  into  the  inte 
rior.  It  had  but  ten  days'  rations  at 
the  time  of  the  capitulation,  and  had 
been  all  along  deficient  in  wagons.  So 
that,  on  many  grounds,  the  negotiation 
of  General  Taylor  was  to  be  justified. 

These  military  successes,  however 
brilliant  as  they  were,  were  unproduc 
tive  of  the  desirable  result  of  "con 
quering  a  peace"  from  the  enemy. 
The  very  humiliation  which  they  in 
flicted,  only  roused  the  spirit  of  the 
country  to  greater  resistance,  and  what 
ever  peace  intentions  General  Santa 
Anna,  now  placed  at  the  head  of 
affairs,  had  when  he  landed  at  Vera 
Cruz,  he  was  clearly  unable  to  carry 
them  out  while  the  Americans  were 
thus  constantly  victorious.  For  the 
purposes  of  the  war,  it  might  have 
been  good  policy  of  the  invaders  to 
have  suffered  a  defeat,  to  humor  na- 


164 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


tional  pride,  and  smooth  the  way  to 
negotiation  and  concession.  Defeat 
was  not,  however,  a  word  to  be  found 
in  the  military  vocabulary  of  Old  Zach. 
He  had  an  indomitable,  unreasoning 
soldier's  logic,  which  led  him  by  a  very 
short  path  to  one  single  conclusion,  that 
victory  was  the  business  of  war;  and 
well  or  ill  provided  with  such  resources 
as  he  had,  in  the  face  of  whatever 
obstacles  might  be  in  the  way,  he  went 
straight  forward  to  that  result.  He 
made  no  noisy  demonstrations,  but 
took  his  ground  boldly  and  fought  to 
the  end.  His  last  battle  was  to  crown 
the  whole. 

The  circumstances  under  which  the 
engagement  at  Buena  Vista  was  fought, 
render  it  the  most  memorable  of  the 
whole  campaign.  The  government  at 
Washington  having  come  to  the  con 
clusion  that  their  system  of  border 
attack,  however  well  pursued,  would 
not  end  the  war,  determined  to  strike 
at  the  heart  of  the  country,  its  capital, 
by  its  great  avenue  of  approach,  the 
line  of  Vera  Cruz.  In  the  month  of 
November,  General  Scott  was  ordered 
to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  to  take  such 
measures,  as  in  his  judgment  he  might 
think  proper,  to  carry  the  resolution 
into  effect.  General  Taylor,  in  this 
arrangement,  was  to  be  left  on  the  Rio 
Grande,  with  a  force  barely  sufficient 
to  maintain  a  defensive  position,  while 
he  yielded  to  Scott,  for  his  more  bril 
liant  service,  the  best  part  of  his  troops, 
the  tried  regulars  who  had  fought  with 
him  from  Corpus  Christi  along  the  line 
of  battles  to  Monterey.  General  Scott 
arrived  at  the  Rio  Grande  about  the 
first  of  January,  1847,  and  began  to 


collect  the  forces  for  his  expedition. 
The  important  divisions  of  General 
Worth,  Twiggs,  Quitman,  arid  other 
choice  troops,  artillery  and  volunteers, 
were  stripped  from  General  Taylor's 
command,  and  his  plan  of  operations  at 
Victoria  and  other  advanced  places 
in  the  interior  entirely  broken  up. 
Nothing  further  was  expected  of  him 
than  to  defend  himself  at  Monterey, 
should  Santa  Anna,  who  was  in  great 
force  at  San  Luis  Potosi,  extend  his 
movements  in  that  direction.  The 
Mexican  General,  who  had  become 
aware  of  the  plans  of  his  foe  by  an 
intercepted  dispatch,  was  thought  more 
likely  to  turn  his  attention  to  the 
intended  landing;  at  Vera  Cruz.  He 

O 

determined,  however,  to  strike  a  blow 
with  his  large  army,  which  seemed 
quite  sufficient  to  sweep  every  Ameri 
can  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  Rio 
Grande.  He  accordingly  marched  with 
his  twenty  thousand  men  toward  the 
position,  in  the  vicinity  of  Saltillo,  of 
General  Taylor  and  his  bands  of  volun 
teers. 

Among  the  latter  was  the  new 
and  important  command  of  General 
Wool,  which  had  just  reached  the 
scene  of  action  from  an  overland  march 
through  Texas.  To  this  officer  belongs 
the  credit  of  the  selection  of  the  pass 
where  the  Americans  so  well  defended 
themselves:  it  was  his  fortune,  being 
left  in  command  at  the  point,  to  open 
the  battle ;  and  to  him  were  specially 
entrusted  some  of  the  most  important 
movements  of  the  daj.  It  Avas  an 
admirably  chosen  ground  for  defence, 
a  narrow  valley  enclosed  on  either 
hand  by  lofty  mountains,  with  seamed 


ZACIIARY    TAYLOR. 


165 


and  broken  ground,  with  the 
on  the  road  additionally  protected  by 
a  river  course  and  deep  ravine  at  its  side. 
The  best  naturally  guarded  ground  of 
the  whole,  where  the  mountain  on  one 
side  and  the  ravine  on  the  other  ap 
proached  nearest  each  other,  the  Pass 
of  Angostura,  was  that  taken  for  the 
American  stand.  There,  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  twenty-second  of  February, 
Washington's  birthday,  as  the  enemy 
made  his  appearance,  the  road  was 
defended  by  a  battery  of  eight  guns, 
supported  on  either  hand  by  companies 
of  infantry.  The  remaining  troops 
were  placed,  in  advantageous  positions, 
on  a  plateau  and  amidst  the  ravines, 
across  the  whole  breadth  of  the  valley. 
These  dispositions  were  made  by  Gene 
ral  Wool,  General  Taylor  having  been 
during  the  night  at  Saltillo,  to  provide 
against  a  threatened  attack  in  that 
quarter.  He  presently  came  up,  bring 
ing  with  him  additional  troops,  and 
assumed  the  command. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  a  summons  was 
received  from  Santa  Anna  to  surrender. 
"You  are  surrounded,"  was  the  lan 
guage  of  this  communication,  "by 
twenty  thousand  men,  and  cannot,  in 
any  hulnan  probability,  avoid  suffering 
a  rout  and  being  cut  to  pieces  with 
your  troops;  but  as  you  deserve  con 
sideration  and  particular  esteem,  I  wish 
to  save  you  from  a  catastrophe,  and  for 
that  purpose  give  you  this  notice,  in 
order  that  you  may  surrender  at  dis 
cretion,  under  the  assurance  that  you 
will  be  treated  with  the  consideration 
belonging  to  the  Mexican  character,  to 
which  end  you  will  be  granted  an 
hour's  time  to  make  up  your  mind,  to 


commence  from  the  moment  when  my 
flag  of  truce  arrives  in  your  camp ;"  to 
all  which  considerate  attention,  Za- 
chary  Taylor  sent  the  following  brief 
sentence — "  Sir :  In  reply  to  your  note 
of  this  date,  summoning  me  to  sur 
render  my  forces  at  discretion,  I  beg 
leave  to  say  that  I  decline  acceding  to 
your  request."  So  the  battle  was  in 
augurated.  There  was  some  skirmish 
ing  in  the  afternoon,  as  the  Mexicans 
felt  their  way  preparatory  to  the  action 
of  the  twenty-third.  General  Taylor 
again  passed  the  night  at  Saltillo,  his 
presence  there  being  necessary  to  as 
sure  the  defence  of  the  place  which 
was  now  more  seriously  threatened. 
Before  his  return  to  the  pass,  the  ene 
my,  at  daylight,  had  commenced  their 
attack.  It  was  made  with  great  force, 
and  with  varying  success.  There  was 
danger  of  the  American  position  being 
completely  turned,  but  by  a  series 
of  skillful  manceuvres,  admirably  exe 
cuted,  and  sustained  by  the  artillery 
and  companies  of  volunteers,  the  ene 
my  was  driven  back. 

An  incident  occurred  in  this  re 
pulse,  which  for  its  bearing  upon 
the  personal  character  of  General  Tay 
lor,  may  be  separated  from  the  mass 
of  details  of  this  engagement  lying 
before  us.  "  It  was  during  this  re 
treat,"  says  Mr.  Dawson  in  his  account 
of  the  action,  "  that  two  thousand 
Mexicans,  anxious  to  escape  the  fire  in 
their  rear,  as  well  as  a  destructive  fire 
on  their  flank  from  the  troops  on  the 
plateau,  had  sought  shelter  in  the 
recesses  of  the  mountains,  and  were 
huddled  together  in  a  helpless,  disor 
derly  mass.  At  this  moment  the  good- 


166 


ZA CHARY    TAYLOR. 


ness  of  General  Taylor's  heart  inter 
ceded  in  their  behalf,  notwithstanding 
they  were  enemies;  and  he  hesitated 
before  sacrificing  a  single  life — even 
that  of  an  enemy — unnecessarily.  With 
the  merciful  desire  of  saving  life,  there 
fore,  he  dispatched  Lieutenant  Critten- 
den,  his  aid-de-ccimp>  with  a  flag,  and 
demanded  the  surrender  of  the  party ; 
but  instead  of  complying  with  the 
demand,  the  Mexicans  availed  them 
selves  of  the  opportunity  afforded  them, 
and  marched  out  of  the  gorge,  while 
the  troops  under  General  Wool,  under 
orders  from  General  Taylor,  silently 
looked  on,  without  being  permitted  to 
fire  a  shot,  or  take  a  step  to  prevent 
their  escape."1 

One  last  eifort  was  left  to  be  di 
rected  by  Santa  Anna  himself.  Ral 
lying  his  forces  for  an  overwhelm 
ing  attack  on  the  central  plateau,  he 
would  have  gained  that  important 
position  had  he  not  been  met  by 
the  American  artillery,  the  Mississippi 
rifles,  and  other  companies  suddenly 
brought  into  position  against  him.  It 
was  on  this  occasion  that  General  Tay 
lor,  as  the  fortune  of  the  day  stood  in 
the  balance,  coolly  uttered  his  memora 
ble  advice  to  his  artillerist,  "A  little 
more  grape,  Captain  Bragg ! "  Let  him 
tell  the  story  in  the  usual  simple  words 
of  his  own  dispatch,  where  we  may  be 
sure  we  shall  hear  nothing  of  this  dra 
matic  point.  "The  moment  was  most 
critical.  Captain  O'Brien,  with  two 
pieces,  had  sustained  the  heavy  charge 
to  the  last,  and  was  finally  obliged  to 
leave  his  guns  on  the  field — his  infantry 

1  Battles  of  the  United  States,  II.  496. 


support  being  entirely  routed.  Cap 
tain  Bragg,  who  had  just  arrived  from 
the  left,  was  ordered  at  once  into  bat 
tery.  Without  any  infantry  to  support 
him,  and  at  the  imminent  risk  of  losing 
his  guns,  this  officer  came  rapidly  into 
action,  the  Mexican  line  being  but  a 
few  yards  from  the  muzzle  of  his  pieces. 
The  first  discharge  of  canister  caused 
the  enemy  to  hesitate ;  the  second  and 
third  drove  him  back  in  disorder  and 
saved  the  day."  There  were  other  ser 
vices  rendered  in  the  final  repulse,  but 
for  them  and  the  merits  of  particular 
officers  and  companies  in  the  battle,  we 
must  refer  the  reader  to  the  various 
dispatches  and  military  narratives  of 
the  day. 

Let  one  brief  passage  from  General 
Taylor's  narrative  declare  the  spirit 
.which  ruled  the  gallant  bands  of  volun 
teers,  nearly  all  for  the  first  time  under 
fire  on  that  occasion.  "  No  further 
attempt,"  he  writes  in  his  official  ac 
count,  "  was  made  by  the  enemy  to 
force  our  position,  and  the  approach  of 
night  gave  an  opportunity  to  pay  pro 
per  attention  to  the  wounded,  and  also 
to  refresh  the  soldiers,  who  had  been 
exhausted  by  incessant  watchfulness 
and  combat.  Though  the  night  was 
severely  cold,  the  troops  were  compelled 
for  the  most  to  bivouac  without  fires, 
expecting  that  morning  would  renew  the 
conflict.  During  the  night  the  wound 
ed  were  removed  to  Saltillo,  and  every 
preparation  made  to  receive  the  enemy, 
should  he  again  attack  our  position." 
The  enemy,  however,  made  no  such 
attempt.  Leaving  his  wounded  on  the 
way,  he  made  good  his  retreat  to  San 
Luis  Potosi.  The  few  figures  with 


ZACIIARY    TAYLOR. 


•which  the  stories  of  all  battles  eiul  will 
tell  better  than  auirht  else  the  heroism 

O 

of  the  brave  encounter.  The  American 
force  engaged  was  three  hundred  and 
thirty-four  officers  and  four  thousand 
four  hundred  and  twenty-five  men,  of 
which  two  squadrons  of  cavalry  and 
three  batteries  of  light  artillery,  making 
not  more  than  four  hundred  and  fifty- 
three  men,  composed  the  only  force  of 
regular  troops.  The  Mexican  forces, 
we  have  seen  stated  by  Santa  Anna 
himself,  at  twenty  thousand,  an  esti 
mate  confirmed  by  all  subsequent  in 
formation.  The  American  loss  was  two 
hundred  and  sixty-seven  killed,  four 
hundred  and  fifty-six  wounded  and 
twenty-three  missing.  The  Mexican 
loss  was  computed  by  General  Taylor 
at  between  fifteen  hundred  and  two 
thousand.  At  least  five  hundred  killed 
were  left  on  the  field  of  battle. 

Thus  closed  General  Taylor's  connec 
tion  with  the  active  operations  of  the 
Mexican  War.  He  was  for  some  time 
engaged  in  camp  duties,  when  he  re- ' 
quested  leave  of  absence  to  attend  to 
the  duties  of  his  plantations  on  the 
Mississippi.  His  home  was  at  Baton 
Rouge,  Louisiana,  the  residence  also  of 
his  estimable  son-in-law  the  late  Colonel 
Bliss,  a  member  of  his  staff  during  his 
Mexican  campaigns. 

The  battle  of  Buena  Vista,  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  fought  at  the  end  of 
February,  1847.  Just  two  years  from 
that  time,  March  4,  1849,  its  brave  and 
modest  commander  was  installed  as 
President  of  the  United  States  at  Wash 
ington.  The  two  events  may  safely  be 
put  in  conjunction,  for  one  proceeded 
directly  out  of  the  other.  General  Tay 


lor,  as  Senator  Benton  remarked,  was 
the  first  President  elected  upon  a  repu 
tation  purely  military.  lie  had  been 
in  the  army  from  his  youth,  and,  ac 
cording  to  the  custom  of  officers  of  the 

O 

army,  had  not  even  voted  at  an  elec 
tion.  He  was  selected,  of  course,  on 
account  of  his  availability ;  yet  it  was 
an  availability  which  did  not  rest  alto 
gether  on  his  purely  military  character. 
"  It  will  be  a  great  mistake,"  said  Dan 
iel  Webster  to  the  Senate,  "  to  suppose 
that  he  owed  his  advancement  to  high 
civil  trust,  or  his  great  acceptableness 
with  the  people  to  military  talent  or 
ability  alone.  Associated  with  the 
highest  admiration  for  those  qualities 
possessed  by  him,  there  was  spread 
throughout  the  community  a  high  de 
gree  of  confidence  and  faith  in  his  in 
tegrity,  and  honor,  and  uprightness  as 
a  man.  I  believe  he  was  especially 
regarded  as  both  a  firm  and  a  mild 
man  in  the  exercise  of  authority ;  and  I 
have  observed  more  than  once,  in  this 
and  in  other  popular  governments,  that 
the  prevalent  motive  with  the  masses 
of  mankind  for  conferring  high  honors 
on  individuals  is  a  confidence  in  their 
mildness,  their  paternal,  protecting,  pru 
dent  and  safe  character."  This  was 
well  said.  Every  word  is  in  harmony 
with  the  popular  appreciation  of  Gen 
eral  Taylor;  and  there  are  doubtless 
many  living  in  Mexico,  as  well  as  in  his 
own  country,  who  would  respond  to 
the  sentiment.  The  soldier  who  could 

% 

pause  in  the  midst  of  such  a  day  as  that 
of  Buena  Vista  to  arrest  the  tide  of 
slaughter,  when  slaughter  was  self-pre 
servation,  with  the  deed  of  mercy  we 
have  recorded,  must  be  entitled  to  no 


168 


ZACHARY    TAYLOR. 


common  meed  of  praise  on  the  ground 
of  humanity.  But  something  more  was 
added  by  his  eminent  eulogist.  "I 
suppose,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  that  no 
case  ever  happened,  in  the  very  best 
days  of  the  Koman  republic,  when  a 
man  found  himself  clothed  with  the 
highest  authority  in  the  state  under 
circumstances  more  repelling  all  suspi 
cion  of  personal  application,  of  pur 
suing  any  crooked  path  in  politics,  or 
of  having  been  actuated  by  sinister 
views  and  purposes,  than  in  the  case  of 
this  worthy,  and  eminent,  and  distin 
guished,  and  good  man."1 

The  circumstance  that  Mr.  "Webster 
was  himself  a  candidate  before  the 
Whig  convention,  which  nominated 
General  Taylor  for  the  Presidency,  adds 
weight  to  these  assertions.  Mr.  Cass 
was  the  opposing  democratic  candidate. 
The  vote  of  the  electors  was  one  hun 
dred  and  sixty-three  to  one  hundred 
and  twenty-seven. 

Of  the  qualities  of  his  short  admi 
nistration  of  the  office,  let  a  member  of 
the  party  opposed  to  his  election  speak. 
The  late  Senator  Benton  says :  "  His 
brief  career  showed  no  deficiency  of 
political  wisdom  for  want  of  previous 

1  Remarks  in  the  Senate  on  the  death  of  General  Tay 
lor. — Webster's  Works,  p.  409. 


political  training.  He  came  into  the 
administration  at  a  time  of  great  diffi 
culty,  and  acted  up  to  the  emergency 
of  his  position.  .  .  .  His  death  was 
a  public  calamity.  No  man  could  have 
been  more  devoted  to  the  Union,  or 
more  opposed  to  the  slavery  agitation ; 
and  his  position  as  a  Southern  man, 
and  a  slaveholder — his  military  repu 
tation  and  his  election  by  a  majority 
of  the  people  and  of  the  States — would 
have  given  him  a  power  in  the  settle 
ment  of  these  questions  which  no  Pre 
sident  without  these  qualifications  could 
have  possessed.  In  the  political  divi 
sion  he  classed  with  the  Whig  party ; 
but  his  administration,  as  far  as  it  went, 
was  applauded  by  the  democracy,  and 
promised  to  be  so  to  the  end  of  his  offi 
cial  term.  Dying  at  the  head  of  the 
government,  a  national  lamentation  be 
wailed  his  departure  from  life  and 
power,  and  embalmed  his  memory  in 
the  affections  of  his  country." l 

General  Taylor  died  at  Washington, 
at  the  Presidential  mansion,  July  9, 
1850,  of  a  fever  contracted  by  exposure 
to  the  intense  heat  of  the  sun,  in  attend 
ance  upon  the  ceremonies  of  the  Day 
of  Independence. 

1  Bcnton's  Thirty  Tears'  View,  II.  765-6. 


MIL  LARD    FILL  MO  RE. 


THE  family  of  Millard  Fillmore  has 
an  honorable  descent  in  American  his 
tory.      Its   records   are  diversified   by 
remarkable  incidents   of  war  and  ad 
venture.      John    Fillmore,   the   .great 
grandfather   of  the   President   of   the 
United  States,  and  the  common  ances 
tor  of  all  of  that  name  in  the  United 
States,  was  born  at  Ipswich,  Massachu 
setts,  about  the  beginning  of  the  eight 
eenth  century.     He   is    recollected   as 
the   hero   of    a  brave   and   successful 
struggle  with  certain  pirates  into  whose 
hands  it  was  his  luck  to  fall  in  a  sail 
ing  venture  out  of  Boston.     He  was 
about   nineteen   when   he   sailed  in  a 
fishing  vessel  from  that  port,  and  had 
been  but  a  few  days  at  sea  when  the 
craft  was  captured  by  a  noted  pirate 
ship  commanded  by  one  Captain  Phil 
lips.     Fillmore  became  a  prisoner,  and 
so  continued  on  board  the  ship  for  nine 
months,  steadily  refusing  his  liberty  on 
the  only  condition  on  which  it  would 
be  granted,  to  sign  the  piratical  articles 
of  the  vessel  and  take  part  in  its  for 
tunes.     Though  threatened  with  death, 
he  persisted  in  his  denial,  till  finally, 
two  others  having  been  taken  captive, 
he  joined  with  them  in  an  attack  on 
the  crew  ;  several  were  killed  ;  the  ves 
sel  u;i<  ivM-iu-d  and  carried  safely  into 
Boston.     The    surviving   pirates   were 
22 


tried  and  executed,  and  the  captors 
were  honored  by  the  thanks  of  the 
British  government.  Young  Fillmore 
afterwards  settled  in  Connecticut,  where 
he  died.  His  son,  Nathaniel,  was 
an  early  settler  in  the  Hampshire 
Grants,  at  Bennington,  a  frontier  posi 
tion  in  those  days  which,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  made  him  a  soldier  in  the 
seven  years'  war  with  France.  He  was 
also  a  gallant  Whig  of  the  Revolution, 
serving,  when  his  home  became  the  the 
atre  of  hostilities,  as  lieutenant  under 
General  Stark,  in  the  spirited  and  deci 
sive  conflict  at  Bennington.  He  died 
in  1814,  leaving  a  son,  Nathaniel,  who 
early  in  life  migrated  to  what  is  now 
called  Summer  Hill,  in  Cayuga  County, 
New  York,  where  he  followed  the  life 
of  a  farmer.  There  his  son  Millard,  the 
future  President,  was  born,  January  7, 
1800.  The  family  shortly  after  re 
moved  to  another  place  in  the  same 
county. 

"  The  nairow  means  of  his  father," 
we  are  told  in  a  narrative  of  these  early 
years,  published  some  years  since  in  the 
"American  Review,"  "  deprived  Millard 
of  any  advantages  of  education  beyond 
what  were  afforded  by  the  imperfect  and 
ill-taught  common  schools  of  the  county. 
Books  were  scarce  and  dear,  and  at  the 
age  of  fifteen,  when  more  favored 

1G9 


170 


MIILLARD    FILLMORE. 


youths  are  far  advanced  in  their  classi 
cal  studies,  or  enjoying  in  colleges  the 
benefit  of  well-furnished  libraries,  young 
Fillraore  had  read  but  little  except  his 
common-school  books  and  the  Bible.  At 
that  period  he  was  sent  into  the  then 
wilds  of  Livingston  County  to  learn  the 
clothier's  trade.  He  remained  there 
about  four  months,  and  was  then  placed 
with  another  person  to  pursue  the  same 
business  and  wool-carding,  in  the  town 
of  Sempronius,  now  Niles,  where  his 
father  lived.  A  small  village  library 
that  was  formed  there  soon  after,  gave 
him  the  first  means  of  acquiring  gene 
ral  knowledge  through  books.  He  im 
proved  the  opportunity  thus  offered ; 
the  appetite  grew  by  what  it  fed  upon. 
The  thirst  for  knowledge  soon  became 
insatiate,  and  every  leisure  moment  was 
spent  in  reading.  Four  years  were 
passed  in  this  way,  working  at  his 
trade  and  storing  his  mind,  during  such 
hours  as  he  could  command,  with  the 
contents  of  books  of  history,  biography, 
and  travels.  At  the  age  of  nineteen  he 
fortunately  made  an  acquaintance  with 
the  late  Walter  Wood,  Esquire,  whom 
many  will  remember  as  one  of  the  most 
estimable  citizens  of  Cayuga  County. 
Judo;e  Wood  was  a  man  of  wealth  and 

o 

great  business  capacity ;  he  had  an  ex 
cellent  law  library,  but  did  little  pro 
fessional  business.  He  soon  saw  that 
under  the  rude  exterior  of  the  clothier's 
boy,  were  powers  that  only  required 
proper  development  to  raise  the  posses 
sor  to  high  distinction  and  usefulness, 
and  advised  him  to  quit  his  trade  and 
study  law.  In  reply  to  the  objection 
of  a  lack  of  education,  means  and 
friends  to  aid  him  in  a  course  of  profes 


sional  study,  Judge  Wood  kindly  offered 
to  give  him  a  place  in  his  office,  to  ad 
vance  money  to  defray  his  expenses,  and 
wait  until  success  in  business  should 
furnish  the  means  of  repayment.  The 
offer  was  accepted.  The  apprentice  boy 
Thought  his  time,  entered  the  office  of 
Judge  Wood,  and  for  more  than  two 
years  applied  himself  closely  to  busi 
ness  and  study.  He  read  law  and 
general  literature  and  practised  sur 
veying." 

Not  content  with  entire  dependence 
upon  his  benefactor  for  his  support,  he 
resorted  to  that  unfailing  resource  of  an 
American  youth  making  progress  from 
poverty  upward  to  the  intellectual  pro 
fessions — he  became  a  schoolmaster  for 
a  portion  of  the  year.  At  the  age  of 
twenty-one  he  removed  to  Erie  County, 
and  entered  a  law  office  in  Buffalo.  His 
legal  studies  were  completed  in  1823, 
when,  diffident  of  success  in  a  city  so 
well  stocked  with  the  profession  as  his 
late  residence,  he  began  the  practice  of 
law  at  Aurora.  He  shortly  after  was 
married  to  the  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Lemuel  Powers.  Success  came  to  him 
gradually,  affording  him  ample  time  to 
develop  his  studies  by  patient  applicaf 
tion.  He  pursued  this  path,  gaining 
his  ground  surely  and  steadily.  In 
1828,  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
assembly  in  the  State  legislature  by  a 
Whig  constituency  of  his  county,  and 
signalized  himself  at  Albany  by  his  ad 
vocacy  of  the  bill  for  the  abolition  of 
imprisonment  for  debt,  a  portion  of 
which  was  prepared  by  him  as  a  mem 
ber  of  the  committee.  He  now  had  his 
residence  as  a  member  of  the  bar  at 
Buffalo. 


MILLARD    FILLMORE. 


171 


His  congressional  life  commenced  in 
1833,  with  his  election  to  the  House  of 
Representatives.  It  was  the  beginning 

of  the  second  term  of  Jackson's  admin 
istration,  that  period  of  conflict  which 
was  to  test  to  the  uttermost  the  party 
strength  of  the  great  chieftain,  and  out 
of  which  he  was  to  emerge  triumph 
antly.  Mr.  Fillmore,  a  young  member 
of  the  House  of  the  losing  side  was 
there  to  learn  his  lesson  of  political 
wisdom  in  the  agitation.  lie  secured 
the  respect  of  his  constituents  by  his 
course,  and  made  a  considerable  step 
onward  -in  his  career,  without  greatly 
attracting  public  attention.  His  term 
of  two  years  having  expired,  he  was  not 
immediately  a  candidate  for  reelection, 
but  devoted  himself  to  his  profession  at 
Buffalo.  He  was  not,  however,  suffered 
to  rest  in  private  life.  In  1836,  he  was 
again  elected  to  Congress,  taking  his 
seat  at  the  commencement  of  Mr.  Van 
Buren's  administration,  and  continuing 
to  serve  by  reelection  through  the 
whole  period  of  his  Presidency.  He 
rose  with  his  experience  in  the  national 
councils,  being  in  this  second  term,  the 
first  session  of  the  twenty-sixth  Congress, 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  committee  on 
elections,  which  threw  into  his  hands  the 
management  of  the  famous  contested 
New  Jersey  case.  Mr.  Fillmore  was 
again  elected  to  the  next  succeeding  Con 
gress  of  1841,  by  a  larger  majority  than 
he  had  hitherto  received.  The  Whi^s 

o 

being  now  in  power,  he  was  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  important  committee  on 
Ways  and  Means,  where  he  was  charged 
with  duties  which  fully  called  forth  his 
resources,  and  placed  him  at  length  in  a 
conspicuous  position  before  the  public. 


At  the  close  of  this  term,  though 
renominated  by  his  friends  in  Erie 
County,  he  persisted  in  declining  a  con 
tinuance  in  office.  His  profession  had 
claims  upon  his  attention  to  which  he 
was  eager  to  respond,  and  his  tempera 
ment  invited  repose.  His 'political  posi 
tion,  however,  was  too  well  established 
for  him  to  be  left  in  quiet  by  his  party. 
He  was  immediately  adopted  as  their 
candidate  for  Governor  of  New  York, 
accepted  the  nomination,  and  was  de 
feated  in  the  election  of  1844.  In  1847 
he  was  chosen  comptroller  of  the  State, 
by  a  large  majority.  He  commenced 
his  new  duties  at  Albany,  at  the  be 
ginning  of  1848,  and. before  the  year 
was  closed,  was  nominated  and  elected 
Vice-President  of  the  United  States. 
He  had  the  same  vote  with  his  princi 
pal,  General  Taylor,  of  fifteen  States, 
and  a  majority  of  the  electoral  vote  of 
thirty-six. 

The  duties  of  his  new  office  of  course 
involved  his  resignation  of  the  comp- 
trollership.  He  entered  upon  the  Pre 
sidency  of  the  Senate  in  March,  1849  ; 
it  was  an  office  which  he  was  well  fitted 
to  discharge,  and  he  left  behind  him, 
when  he  was  called  to  a  higher  station, 
an  impression  of  his  moderation  and 
urbanity.  On  the  9th  of  July,  1850, 
while  Congress  was  in  session,  the  sud 
den  death  of  General  Taylor,  devolved 
upon  him  the  cares  and  responsibilities 
of  the  Presidency.  In  deference  to  the 
general  feeling  of  regret  which  was 
called  forth  by  the  departure  of  this 
estimable  man,  and  in  obedience  to  his 
successor's  own  feelings,  his  entrance 
into  office  was  conducted  in  the  sim 
plest  manner.  The  day  after  the  death 


172 


MILLARD    FILLMORE. 


of  the  late  President,  attended  by  a 
committee  of  the  two  Houses  and  the 
members  of  the  late  President's  cabinet, 
the  oath  was  administered  to  him,  not 
in  front  of  the  Capitol  but  in  the  Hall 
of  the  House  of  Representatives,  by  the 
venerable  Judge  Cranch,  of  the  Cir 
cuit  Court  of  the  District  of  Columbia, 
"  which  being  done,  President  Fillrnore, 
without  any  inaugural  address,  bowed 
and  retired,  and  the  ceremony  was  at 
an  end." 1 

In  his  annual  message,  however,  on 
the  reassembling  of  Congress,  in  De 
cember,  he  took  occasion  to  supply  what 
may  be  regarded  as  the  substitute  for 
the  usual  inaugural  address.  "Being 

~  o 

suddenly  called,"  says  he  in  that  doc 
ument,  "  in  the  midst  of  the  last  session 
of  Congress,  by  a  painful  dispensation 
of  Divine  Providence,  to  the  responsi 
ble  station  which  I  now  hold,  I  con 
tented  myself  with  such  communica 
tions  to  the  Legislature  as  the  exigency 
of  the  moment  seemed  to  require.  The 
country  was  shrouded  in  mourning  for 
the  loss  of  its  venerated  chief  magis 
trate,  and  all  hearts  were  penetrated 
with  grief.  Neither  the  time  nor  the 
occasion  appeared  to  require  or  to  jus 
tify,  on  my  part,  any  general  expression 
of  political  opinions,  or  any  announce 
ment  of  the  principles  which  would 
govern  me  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties 
to  the  performance  of  which  I  had  been 
so  unexpectedly  called.  I  trust,  there 
fore,  that  it  may  not  be  deemed  inap 
propriate,  if  I  avail  myself  of  this  op 
portunity  of  the  reassembling  of  Con 
gress,  to  make  known  my  sentiments 

1  Benton's  Thirty  Years'  View,  II.  767. 


in  a  general  manner,  in  regard  to  the 
policy  which  ought  to  be  pursued  by 
the  government,  both  in  its  intercourse 
with  foreign  nations,  and  in  its  manage 
ment  and  administration  of  internal 
affairs. 

"  Nations,  like  individuals  in  a  state 
of  nature,  are  equal  and  independent, 
possessing  certain  rights,  and  owing 

certain  duties  to  each  other,  arising  from 

'  ~ 

their  necessary  and  unavoidable  rela 
tions  ;  which  rights  and  duties  there  is 
no  common  human  authority  to  protect 
and  enforce.  Still,  they  are  rights  and 
duties,  binding  in  morals,  in  conscience, 
and  in  honor,  although  there  is  no  tri- 

'  O 

bunal  to  which  an  injured  party  can 
appeal,  but  the  disinterested  judgment 
of  mankind,  and  ultimately  the  arbitra 
ment  of  the  sword. 

"  Among  the  acknowledged  rights  of 
nations  is  that  which  each  possesses  of 
establishing  that  form  of  government 
which  it  may  deem  most  conducive  to 
the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  its  own 
citizens  ;  of  changing  that  form,  as  cir 
cumstances  may  require ;  and  of  manag 
ing  its  internal  affairs  according  to  its 
own  will.  The  people  of  the  United 
States  claim  this  right  for  them 
selves,  and  they  readily  concede  it  to 
others.  Hence  it  becomes  an  impera 
tive  duty  not  to  interfere  in  the  govern 
ment  or  internal  policy  of  other  nations; 
and,  although  we  may  sympathize  with 
the  unfortunate  or  the  oppressed,  every 
where,  in  their  struggles  for  freedom, 
our  principles  forbid  us  from  taking 
any  part  in  such  foreign  contests.  We 
make  no  wars  to  promote  or  to  prevent 
successions  to  thrones;  to  maintain  any 
theory  of  a  balance  of  power ;  or  to 


MILLARP    FILLMORE. 


173 


suppress  the  actual  government  which 
any  country  chooses  to  establish  for 
itself.  We  instigate  no  revolutions,  nor 
suffer  any  hostile  military  expeditions 
to  be  fitted  out  in  the  United  States  to 
invade  the  territory  or  provinces  of  a 
friendly  nation.  The  great  law  of  mo 
rality  ought  to  have  a  national,  as  well 
as  a  personal  and  individual,  applica 
tion.  We  should  act  towards  other  na 
tions  as  we  wish  them  to  act  towards 
us ;  and  justice  and  conscience  should 
form  the  rule  of  conduct  between  gov 
ernments,  instead  of  mere  power,  self- 
interest,  or  the  desire  of  aggrandize 
ment.  To  maintain  a  strict  neutrality 
in  foreign  wars,  to  cultivate  friendly 
relations,  to  reciprocate  every  noble  and 
generous  act,  and  to  perform  punctually 
and  scrupulously  every  treaty  obliga 
tion — these  are  the  duties  which  we 
owe  to  other  States,  and  by  the  per 
formance  of  which  we  beet  entitle  our 
selves  to  like  treatment  from  them  ;  or 
if  that,  in  any  case,  be  refused,  we  can 
enforce  our  own  rights  with  justice  and 
with  a  clear  conscience. 

"  In  our  domestic  policy,  the  Constitu 
tion  will  be  my  guide  ;  and  in  questions 
of  doubt,  I  shall  look  for  its  interpreta 
tion  to  the  judicial  decisions  of  that  tri 
bunal  which  was  established  to  expound 
it,  and  to  the  usage  of  the  government, 
sanctioned  by  the  acquiescence  of  the 
country.  I  regard  all  its  provisions  as 
ctjiially  binding.  In  all  its  parts  it  is 
the  will  of  the  people,  expressed  in  the 
ni'^t  solemn  form,  and  the  constituted 
authorities  are  but  agents  to  carry  that 
will  into  effect.  Eveiy  power  which  it 
has  granted  is  to  be  exercised  for  the 
public  good ;  but  no  pretence  of  utility, 


no  honest  conviction  even,  of  what 
might  be  expedient,  can  justify  the 
assumption  of  any  power  not  granted. 
The  powers  conferred  upon  the  govern 
ment  and  their  distribution  to  the  seve 
ral  departments,  are  as  clearly  expressed 
in  that  sacred  instrument  as  the  imper 
fection  of  human  language  will  allow; 
and  I  deem  it  my  first  duty,  not  to 
question  its  wisdom,  add  to  its  provi 
sions,  evade  its  requirements,  or  nullity 
its  commands." 

The  loss  of  General  Taylor  was  the 
more  felt  as  the  country  was  at  the  time 
agitated  with  the  discussions  growing 
out  of  the  subject  of  slavery,  which  had 
arisen  with  the  question  of  the  disposi 
tion  of  the  territory  conquered  from 
Mexico ;  and  the  late  President,  of  mo 
derate  views,  and  capable  of  giving 
great  weight  to  them  in  the  national 
councils,  by  his  intimate  relations  with 
the  South,  was  looked  to  as  the  great 
mediator  in  effecting  a  compromise  of 
the  conflicting  interests.  This  had  al 
ready  been  proposed  by  Mr.  Clay,  and 
found  an  advocate  in  the  President. 
Thus,  when  his  aid  seemed  most  needed, 
he  expired,  leaving  the  great  work  to 
be  accomplished  by  his  successor.  It 
was  undertaken  by  him,  so  far  as  the 
influence  of  his  office  extended,  in  a 
spirit  of  conciliation.  His  choice  of 
Daniel  Webster  as  Secretary  of  State, 
and  of  the  other  members  of  his  cabinet, 
from  different  portions  of  the  Union, 
was  an  earnest  of  his  intentions.  The 
boundary  between  Texas  and  New 
Mexico,  a  matter  of  some  difficulty,  was 
adjusted,  California  was  admitted  as  a 
free  State,  Utah  Territory  was  organ 
ized,  and  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  en- 


J74 


MILLARD    FILLMORE. 


acted.  In  other  affairs  of  social  im 
portance,  President  Fillmore's  brief  term 
of  office  was  signalized  by  several  inci 
dents  which  will  always  find  a  place 
in  the  history  of  the  country.  The  re 
duction  of  postage  on  letters  to  the  uni 
form  rate  of  three  cents;  the  return  of 
the  government  Arctic  expedition  of 
Lieutenant  De  Haven,  sent  in  quest  of 
Sir  John  Franklin ;  the  visit  of  Kossuth 
to  the  country  in  1851 ;  the  sailing  of 
Commodore  Perry's  expedition  to  Ja 
pan  in  the  following  year,  are  events 
which  will  be  more  lasting  in  their  con 
sequences  than  many  battles  which 
have  filled,  for  the  time,  a  larger  space 
in  the  public  attention. 

Mr.  Fillmore's  term  of  office  closed  in 
the  spring  of  1853.  The  following  year 


he  made  a  tour  in  the  South,  where  he 
was  well  received,  and  in  1855  visited 
Europe  to  return  in  season  for  the  Pre 
sidential  canvass  of  1856.  He  was  put 
forward  in  that  election  as  a  medium 
candidate  of  the  American  party,  be 
tween  the  nominee  of  the  Democratic 
party,  Mr:  Buchanan,  and  Colonel  Fre 
mont,  of  the  Republican.  In  such  a 
contest  there  was  little  strength  to  be 
wasted  by  the  two  great  divisions 
which  swallowed  up  the  rest.  Mr. 
Fillmore  received  the  vote  only  of  the 
single  State  of  Maryland. 

Since  that  period  Mr.  Fillmore  has 
not  been  before  the  public  as  a  candi 
date  for  office.  He  has  continued  to 
reside  in  the  western  part  of  the  State 
of  New  York. 


FRANKLIN    PIERCE. 


FRAJSKLW  PIERCE,  the  fourteenth  Pre 
sident  of  the  United  States,  was  born 
at  Hillsborough,  in  the  State  of  New 
Hampshire,  November  23,  1804.  His 
father,  Benjamin  Pierce,  a  native  of 
Massachusetts,  with  many  other  spirited 
youths,  entered  the  Revolutionary  army 
at  the  summons  of  Lexington,  served 
through  the  war  with  credit,  and  re- 

O  ' 

tiling  with  the  rank  of  captain,  a  year 
or  two  after  peace  was  declared,  became 
the  purchaser  of  a  plot  of  fifty  acres  in 
the  present  town  of  Hillsborough,  then 
a  rough  clearing  in  the  wilderness. 
There  he  built  a  log-house  and  settled 
down  to  the  clearing  of  the  land,  his 
second  wife,  to  whom  he  was  united  in 
1789,  becoming  the  mother  of  the  sub 
ject  of  this  sketch  who  was  the  sixth 
of  her  eight  children.  The  captain  of 
the  Revolution  meanwhile  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  people  of  the  region, 
was  made  brigade  major  on  the  organi 
zation  of  the  militia  of  the  county; 
in  1789  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
House  of  Representatives  at  Concord, 
continuing  to  serve  in  that  capacity  for 
thirteen  years  till  he  was  chosen  a 
member  of  the  Governor's  Council.  An 
eminent  member  of  the  Democratic 
party,  he  was  an  ardent  supporter  of 
the  war  of  1812,  sending  two  of  his 
sons  to  the  army.  He  rose  to  be  Gover 


nor  of  New  Hampshire  in  1827,  and 
was  again  elected  to  that  office  in  1829. 
He  subsequently  lived  in  retirement, 
leaving  the  world  in  1839,  at  the 
venerable  age  of  eighty-one.  The  peo 
ple  of  New  Hampshire  have  not  yet 
forgotten  the  shrewd  sense  and  kindli 
ness,  the  unaffected  democratic  princi 
ples,  of  the  honest,  cheerful  old  soldier 
of  the  Revolution  and  Governor  of  the 
State.  It  is  to  his  memory,  doubt 
less,  supported  by  the  popular  traits  of 
character  inherited  from  him,  that  his 
son  has  been  indebted  for  much  of  his 
advancement. 

Franklin  had  good  opportunities  of 
education.  He  was  early  sent  to  the 
neighboring  academies  at  Hancock  and 
Francestown,  enjoying  at  the  latter  the 
advantages  of  a  residence  with  the 
family  of  an  old  friend  of  his  father, 
Peter  Woodbury,  whose  son,  Judge 
Woodbury,  became  afterward  so  emi 
nent  in  public  affairs.  Young  Pierce, 
who  was  of  a  warm-hearted,  susceptible 
nature,  was  much  impressed  by  the 
superior  mind  and  character  of  the  lady 
of  this  household,  the  mother  of  Judge 
Woodbury.  Indeed  he  appears  in  his 
boyhood  to  have  won  the  kindness  of 
those  around  him  by  his  frank,  inge 
nuous  disposition.  He  was  admitted 

to  Bowdoin  college  in  1820.     It  is  to 

175 


176 


FRANKLIN    PIERCE. 


the  credit  of  young  Pierce  as  a  collegian 
that,  having  fallen  into  some  indiffe 
rence  during  the  first  years  of  his 
course,  he  more  than  regained  his  posi 
tion  in  the  upper  classes,  graduating 
with  credit  in  1824.  It  is  a  fact  worth 
mentioning,  though,  as  his  biographer 
remarks,  by  no  means  unusual  in  the 
history  of  the  rise  of  New  England 
statesmen,  that  in  one  of  the  winter  va 
cations  Franklin  Pierce  took  a  turn  at 
school-keeping. 

His  college  instruction  being  com 
pleted,  he  began  the  study  of  the  law 
as  a  profession  in  the  office  of  Judge 
Woodbury,  of  Portsmouth,  the  son  of 
his  father's  old  friend,  then  Governor 
of  tli  e  State,  and  soon  afterward  greatly 
distinguished  at  Washington  as  Speaker 
and  senator,  and  member  of  the  cabinet 
of  Jackson.  After  a  year  with  this 
eminent  jurist,  Mr.  Pierce  completed  his 
studies  in  the  law  school  at  Northamp 
ton  and  the  office  of  the  Hon.  Edmund 
Parker,  at  Amherst.  He  was  admitted 
to  the  bar  in  1827,  and  opened  an  office 
opposite  to  his  father's  house  at  Hills- 
borough."  His  success,  though  he  had 
the  advantage  of  the  family  popularity, 
was"  not  very  decided  at  the  outset. 
His  biographer,  indeed,  speaks  of  his 
first  case  as  a  decided  failure.  He  had 
not  yet  learned  the  full  command  of 
his  resources.  It  was  his  fortune  to 
make  his  position  at  the  bar  good 
by  steady  effort.  Politics,  meanwhile, 
offered  him  a  ready  resource,  as  his 
father  had  just  been  elected  Governor. 
Democratic  sentiments  were  gaining  the 
ascendency  under  the  influence  of  Jack 
son,  and  to  this  cause  young  Pierce  de 
voted  himself.  In  1829,  and  for  three 


successive  years,  he  was  elected  to  the 
legislature  of  his  State,  as  representa 
tive  of  Hillsborough,  filling  in  1S§2  and 
1833  the  office  of  Speaker.  In  the  last 
year  he  was  chosen  a  member  of  Con 
gress,  taking  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Re 
presentatives  at  Washington,  in  Decem 
ber.  He  was  again  elected  and  served  a 
second  term.  He  was  of  course  a  steady, 
unflinching  supporter  of  the  administra 
tion,  for  the  democratic  rule  of  those 
days  admitted  no  other — not  a  frequent, 
or  long,  or  eloquent  speaker,  but  a  zeal 
ous,  persistent  committee  man,  giving 
his  vote  for  the  measures  of  his  chief, 
seconding  the  views  of  %  the  South,  and, 
a  decided  man  generally  in  his  party 
relations. 

In  1837  he  left  the  House  of  Repre 
sentatives  for  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States,  where  he  was  the  youngest 
member  of  that  body.  His  term  of  ser 
vice  embraced  the  whole  of  Mr.  Van 
Buren's  administration  and  a  portion 
of  that  of  his  successor,  during  which 
his  services  to  his  party  were  resolute 
and  unintermitted.  They  were  not  for 
gotten  when  an  opportunity  subse 
quently  arose  to  confer  upon  him  the 
highest  reward.  He  retired  from  pub 
lic  life  at  the  end  of  the  period  for 
which  he  wa,s  elected,  having  his  resi 
dence  now  at  Concord,  in  his  native 
State.  He  had  been  for  some  time 
married  to  a  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Appleton,  once  President  of  Bowdoin; 
his  father  was  now  dead;  and  his  do 
mestic  affairs  required  his  care  at  home. 
Thither  he  retired  to  devote  himself  as 
siduously  to  his  profession.  His  suc 
cess  was  immediately  assured,  his  prac 
tice  at  the  bar  yielding  him  a  very 


FRANK  I. IN    PTKRCE. 


177 


handsome  income.  In  proof  of  his  con 
tentment  and  the  sincerity  of  his  wishes 
for  retirement,  he  declined  in  1845  an 
appointment  by  the  Governor  to  the 
United  States  Senate  to  fill  the  place 
vacated  by  Judge  Woodbury,  and  a 
proffer  by  the  Democracy  of  his  State 
of  a  nomination  as  Governor;  refusing 
also  in  the  following  year  a  seat  in  the 
cabinet  of  President  Polk  as  Attorney- 
General.  He  held  meanwhile  the  post, 
at  home,  of  District  Attorney  of  New 
Hampshire. 

His  reluctance  to  engage  in  public 
life  at  Washington  partly  proceeded 
from  his  professional  duties  in  his  own 
State  and  partly  from  the  health  of  his 
wife,  to  which  the  climate  of  the  seat 
of  government  was  unfavorable.  In  his 
letter  to  President  Polk,  dated  Septem 
ber  6,  1846,  declining  the  position  of 
Attorney-General,  he  made  use  of  this 
expression :  "  A^hen  I  resigned  my  seat 
in  the  senate  in  1842,  I  did  it  with  the 
fixed  purpose  never  again  to  be  volun 
tarily  separated  from  my  family,  for 
any  considerable  length  of  time,  except 
at  the  call  of  my  country  in  time  of 
war."  The  reservation,  looking  to  the 
date,  was  not  without  its  significance. 
General  Taylor  had  in  May  fought  the 
battles  of  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de  la 
Palma,  and  it  was  evident  that  more 
serious  struggles,  which  would  call  out 
a  new  military  force,  were  impending. 
Congress  was  slow  to  admit  the  neces 
sity  in  making  provision  for  the  addi 
tional  force,  but  when  the  time  came 
and  the  bill  creating  ten  new  regiments 
was  passed,  Franklin  Pierce  was  looked 
to  and  created  by  the  President  a 
bri  Duller-general,  his  commission  being 

23 


dated  March  3,  1847.  He  had  pre 
viously  enrolled  his  name  on  the  first 
list  of  volunteers  at  Concord  as  a  pri 
vate  soldier.  He  considered  his  accep 
tance  of  the  duty  a  fulfillment  of  his 
pledge  on  taking  leave  of  the  Senate. 
The  old  military  spirit  of  two  wars  in 
which  his  father  and  brothers  had  taken 
part  again  lived  in  the  family. 

The  brigade  of  which  he  was  placed 
in  command  consisted  of  twenty-five 
hundred  men,  composed  of  the  ninth 
regiment  of  New  Englanders,  the  twelfth 
from  the  south-western  States,  and  the 
fifteenth  from  the  north  and  west. 
They  were  to  assemble  at  Vera  Cruz, 
and  join  the  forces  of  General  Scott  on 
his  march  to  the  capital.  General  Pierce 
sailed  from  Newport  on  the  27th  of 
May,  with  a  portion  of  the  New  Eng 
land  regiment;  the  voyage  was  calm 
and  consequently  long ;  bringing  the  pas 
sengers  to  the  rendezvous  at  the  most 
unhealthy  season  of  the  year.  As  the 
vomito  then  prevailed  at  Vera  Cruz, 
the  prospect  of  landing  new  recruits 
was  anything  but  a  happy  one.  It  was 
the  work  before  the  new  general,  how 
ever,  and  he  courageously  faced  it.  The 
portions  of  his  Diary  -published  by  his 
biographer,  show  the  full  extent  of  the 
difficulties  which  he  encountered,  and 
which  were  met  by  him  with  manly 
resolution.  Avoiding  the  city,  he  sta 
tioned  his  men  on  an  extensive  sand 
beach  in  the  vicinity,  where  they  would 
at  least  have  the  benefit  of  a  free  circu 
lation  of  air.  It  was  the  beginning  of 
July,  and  no  means  were  at  hand  to 
expedite  the  departure  for  the  interior. 
A  large  number  of  wild  mules  had  been 
collected  but,  inferior  as  they  were  for 


178 


FRANKLIN    PIERCE. 


purposes  of  transportation,  they  were  so 
ill  provided  with  proper  attendants  that 
most  of  them  broke  away  in  a  stam 
pede.  "The  Mexicans  fully  believe," 
is  the  language  of  the  journal  of  June 
28,  "  that  most  of  my  command  must 
die  of  vomito  before  I  can  be  prepared 
to  march  into  the  interior."  A  delay 
of  but  a  day  or  two  was  expected ;  it 
was  now  running  into  weeks.  Then 
he  records  the  services  of  Major  "Woods, 
a  West  Point  officer  "  of  great  intelli 
gence,  experience,  and  coolness,  who 
kindly  consented  to  act  as  my  adjutant- 
general."  There  is  a  serious  case  of 
vomito  in  the  camp,  Captain  Duff,  who 
is  sent  to  the  hospital  in  the  city.  At 
length,  after  three  weeks  on  the  shore, 
the  advance  is  sent  off,  and  a  few  days 
after  the  general  himself  follows.  It  is 
not  an  easy  road  to  travel.  The  great 
battles  of  the  previous  expeditions  had 
cleared  the  road  of  extensive  fortifica 
tions,  but  left  it  free  to  be  assailed  by 
straggling  parties  of  guerillas,  of  whom 
General  Pierce  and  his  men  are  to  have 
a  taste  as  they  carry  their  train  of  men 
and  munitions  to  the  main  army  at 
Puebla.  He  was  twice  attacked  on  the 
route,  on  leaving  San  Juan,  when  both 
sides  of  the  road  were  beset  by  the 
Mexicans,  and  again  at  the  National 
Bridge,  where  a  formidable  effort  was 
made  to  arrest  his  progress.  The  ene 
my  had  erected  a  barricade  at  the 
bridge,  and  manned  a  temporary  breast 
work  on  a  high  commanding  bluff 
above.  General  Pierce,  looking  around 
for  means  of  annoyance  to  cover  his 
advance,  found  a  position  for  several 
pieces  of  cannon,  but  the  main  advan 
tage  was  gained  by  a  portion  of  his 


command  in  charging  the  defences  at 
the  bridge  and  gaining  the  enemy's 
works  from  the  rear.  In  this  engage 
ment,  which  seems  to  have  been  well 
managed  in  securing  the  speedy  retreat 
of  the  Mexicans,  General  Pierce  was 
under  fire,  and  received  an  escopette 
ball  through  the  rim  of  his  hat,  without, 
however,  other  damage,  as  he  adds  in 
his  journal,  "  than  leaving  my  head  for 
a  short  time  without  protection  from 
the  sun."  The  train  thus  relieved  ad 
vanced  to  the  Plan  del  Bio,  where  the 
bridge,  a  work  of  the  old  Spaniards, 
was  found  to  be  destroyed.  Its  main 
arch,  a  span  of  about  sixty  feet,  was 
blown  up.  Below  yawned  a  gulf  of  a 
hundred  feet.  The  bank  in  the  neigh 
borhood  appeared  impassable  for  wa 
gons.  In  this  emergency  General  Pierce 
called  upon  one  of  his  New  England 
officers,  Captain  Bodfish,  of  the  Ninth 
Infantry,  who  "  had  been  engaged  for 
many  years  in  the  lumber  business,  and 
accustomed  to  the  construction  of  roads 
in  the  wild  and  mountainous  districts 
of  Maine,  and  was,  withal,  a  man  not 
lightly  to  be  checked  by  slight  ob 
stacles  in  the  accomplishment  of  an  en 
terprise."  This  enterprising  officer  had 
by  no  means  the  resources  of  Maine  at 
his  command,  for  there  was  no  timber 
in  the  vicinity ;  but  the  road  was  con 
structed,  nevertheless,  and  the  train 
passed  in  safety  over  it.  After  this 
there  were  no  extraordinary  difficulties 
to  be  overcome,  and  General  Pierce,  on 
the  seventh  of  August,  reached  the  head 
quarters  of  General  Scott  at  Puebla, 
with  his  brigade,  which,  after  undergo 
ing  some  changes  on  the  way  at  Perote, 
consisted  of  some  twenty-four  hundred 


FKAXKLIN    PIERCE. 


17:' 


m<>n.  The  guerillas  who  infested  his 
path  had  not  succeeded  in  capturing  a 
single  waijon. 

O  O 

With    this    reinforcement     General 
Scott  immediately  began  his  advance 
to  the  valley  of  Mexico.     In  the  first 
action,  that  at  the  heights  of  Contreras, 
where  the  enemy's  works,  having  been 
approached   with  difficulty,  were   suc 
cessfully  stormed  with  great  gallantly, 
•General  Pierce  was  in  command  at  the 
outset  in  the  attack  upon  the  front  of 
the  intrenchments.     It  was  a  duty  of 
peculiar  toil  and  hazard.     The  ground, 
the   famous   pedregal,   was   a   broken, 
rocky  surface,  impracticable  for  cavalry 
and   harassing  for   infantry.      General 
Pierce  was  the  only  mounted  officer  in 
the  brigade,  and,  as  he  was  pressing  to 
the  head  of  his  column,  after  addressing 
the  colonels  and  captains  of  his  regi 
ment  as  they  passed  by  him,  his  horse 
slipped  among  the  rocks  and  fell,  crush 
ing  his  rider  in  the  fall.     This  was  the 
first   of    a   series   of    disasters    which 
weighed  heavily  upon  General  Pierce 
through  the  remainder  of  the  brief  cam 
paign,  but  which  his  energy  and  spirit 
enabled  him  in  a  considerable  measure 
to  overcome.     He  was  at  first  stunned 
by  the  fall  with  the  horse,  but  recover 
ing  his  consciousness,  was  hurried  on  in 
the  battle,  having  been  assisted  to  a 
seat  in  the  saddle.     When  told  that  he 
would  not  be   able  to  keep  his  seat, 
"  Then,"  said  he,  "  you  must  tie  me  on." 
II«-    lay  that   night  writhing   in   pain 
i'r<  >in  his  wounded  knee,  on  an  ammu 
nition  wagon,  to  be  mounted  again  the 
next  morning,  the  decisive  day  at  Con 
treras,  and   was  enabled   to   hold  his 
position  and  lead  his  brigade  in  pur 


suit.  In  the  course  of  this  duty  he  was 
summoned  to  the  commander-in-chief, 
who  perceived  at  once  his  shattered 
condition.  "Pierce,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  the  veteran  kindly,  "you  are  badly 
injured;  you  are  not  fit  to  be  in  the 
saddle."  "  Yes,  general,  I  am,"  replied 
Pierce,  "in  a  case  like  this."  "You 
cannot  touch  your  foot  to  the  stirrup," 
said  Scott.  "  One  of  them  I  can,"  an 
swered  Pierce.  The  general,  says  the 
authentic  narrative  before  us,  looked 
again  at  Pierce's  almost  disabled  figure, 
and  seemed  on  the  point  of  taking  his 
irrevocable  resolution.  "  You  are  rash, 
General  Pierce,"  said  he ;  "  we  shall  lose 
you,  and  we  cannot  spare  you.  It  is 
my  duty  to  order  you  back  to  St.  Au- 
gustin."  "For  God's  sake,  general," 
exclaimed  Pierce,  "  don't  say  that ! 
This  is  the  last  great  battle,  and  I  must 
lead  my  brigade  !"  The  commander-in- 
chief  made  no  further  remonstrance, 
but  gave  the  order  for  Pierce  to  ad 
vance  with  his  brigade.  The  sequel 
may  best  be  told  in  his  biographer, 
Mr.  Hawthorne's,  interesting  narrative. 
"  The  way  lay  through  thick,  standing 
corn,  and  over  marshy  ground,  inter 
cepted  with  ditches,  which  were  filled, 
or  partially  so,  with  water.  Over  some 
of  the  narrower  of  these  Pierce  leaped 
his  horse.  When  the  brigade  had  ad 
vanced  about  a  mile,  however,  it  found 
itself  impeded  by  a  ditch  ten  or  twelve 
feet  wide,  and  six  or  eight  feet  deep. 
It  being  impossible  to  leap  it,  General 
Pierce  was  lifted  from  his  saddle,  and 
in  some  incomprehensible  way,  hurt  as 
he  was,  contrived  to  wade  or  scramble 
across  this  obstacle,  leaving  his  horse 
on  the  hither  side.  The  troops  were 


180 


FKANKLIN    PIERCE. 


now  under  fire.  In  the  excitement  of 
the  battle  he  forgot  his  injury  and  hur 
ried  forward,  leading  the  brigade  a  dis 
tance  of  two  or  three  hundred  yards. 
But  the  exhaustion  of  his  frame,  and 
particularly  the  anguish  of  his  knee — 
made  more  intolerable  by  such  free  use 
of  it — was  greater  than  any  strength  of 
nerve,  or  any  degree  of  mental  energy 
could  struggle  against.  He  fell,  faint 
and  almost  insensible,  within  full  range 
of  the  enemy's  fire.  It  was  proposed 
to  bear  him  off  the  field;  but,  as  some 
of  his  soldiers  approached  to  lift  him, 
he  became  aware  of  their  purpose,  and 
was  partially  revived  by  his  determina 
tion  to  resist  it.  "  No,"  said  he,  with 
all  the  strength  he  had  left,  "don't 
carry  me  off !  let  me  lie  here !"  And 
there  he  lay  under  the  tremendous  fire 
of  Cherubusco,  until  the  enemy,  in  total 
rout,  was  driven  from  the  field."  In 
the  negotiations  which  immediately  en 
sued,  General  Pierce  was  honored  by 
the  commander-in-chief  with  the  ap 
pointment  of  one  of  the  commissioners 
to  arrange  the  terms  of  the  armistice. 
Jaded  and  worn  out  as  he  was,  having 
been  two  nights  without  sleep  and  un 
able  to  move  without  assistance,  he  at 
tended  to  this  duty  before  seeking  repose. 
In  the  subsequent  action  of  the  cam 
paign,  at  the  battle  of  Molino  del  Rey,  he 
rendered  an  important  service  to  General 
Worth  at  the  close  of  that  bloody  fight, 
in  interposing  to  receive  the  fire  of  the 
enemy,  and,  the  victory  having  been 
gained,  occupied  the  field.  He  would 
have  been  prominently  engaged  in  the 
sequel  to  this  battle,  the  storming  of 
Chapultepec,  but  he  had  now  become 
BO  ill  as  to  be  compelled  to  seek  relief 


at  the  head-quarters  of  General  Worth, 
where  he  remained  when  this  conclud 
ing  action  of  the  war  was  fought.  He 
rose,  however,  from  his  sick  couch  to 
report  himself  to  General  Quitman, 
ready  to  take  part  in  the  final  assault 
upon  the  city;  but  this  perilous  duty 
was  happily  spared  him  by  the  timely 
capitulation. 

On-  his  return  to  the  United  States 
at  the  close  of  1847,  General  Pierce 
having  resigned  his  commission  at 
Washington,  was  received  at  Concord, 
in  his  native  State,  with  the  utmost  en 
thusiasm.  Welcomed  to  the  town  hall 
in  a  complimentary  speech  by  General 
Low,  he  replied  in  an  address  of  great 
propriety,  skillfully  turning  the  occasion 
to  the  praises  of  his  comrades  in  the 
war.  He  spoke  of  the  New  England 
regiment  in  general,  of  its  sacrifices  and 
deeds  of  honor,  and  particularly  of  the 
brave  men  who  had  fallen  on  the  field. 
He  also  paid  a  well-deserved  compli 
ment  to  the  officers  furnished  to  the 
war  by  the  Military  Academy  at  West 
Point,  a  tribute  which  came  with  more 
emphasis  from  his  lips,  as  in  former 
days  in  Congress  he  had  opposed  the 
usual  annual  appropriation  for  that  in 
stitution.  In  recognition  of  his  services, 
he  was  shortly  after  presented  with  a 
sword  by  the  legislature  of  New  Hamp 
shire. 

General  Pierce  now  passed  into  re 
tirement  and  was  again  engaged  in  the 
practice  of  his  profession.  He  took 
part,  however,  in  the  political  affairs  of 
his  party,  particularly  in  the  canvass 
of  1848  when  General  Cass  was  a  can 
didate  for  the  Presidency.  The  Demo 
cratic  party  then  suffered  a  defeat,  but 


FRANKLIN    PIERCE. 


1M 


rallied  again  for  action  in  1852,  when 
General  Pierce  was  put  in  nomination 
for  that  high  office.  Previously  to  this 
election  his  position  was  strengthened 
in  New  Hampshire  by  his  election  as 
President  of  the  convention  for  the  re 
vision  of  the  State  constitution,  and  as 
the  time  for  the  choice  of  a  new  Presi 
dent  of  the  Union  approached  he  was  put 
forward  by  the  democracy  of  the  State 
as  a  suitable  candidate.  The  nominating 
convention  of  his  party  met  at  Balti 
more  in  June,  18^2  ;  there  was  some 
difficulty  in  deciding  upon  a  candidate, 
and  several  days  had  passed  in  the  dis 
cussion,  when  General  Pierce  was  brought 
forward  by  the  Virginia  delegation  on 
the  thirty-sixth  ballot.  His  strength 
continued  to  increase  as  the  contest  was 
carried  on,  till,  on  the  forty-ninth  bal 
lot,  he  received  two  hundred  and  eighty- 
two  out  of  the  two  hundred  and  ninety- 
three  votes  cast.  In  the  election  which 
followed,  he  was  chosen  over  General 
Scott,  the  candidate  of  the  Whig  party, 
by  a  popular  majority  of  two  hundred 
and  three  thousand,  three  hundred  and 
six,  their  joint  votes  being  two  millions, 
nine  hundred  and  eighty-nine  thousand, 
four  hundred  and  eighty-four.  He  had 
the  electoral  votes  of  all  the  States  e£- 
cepting  Vermont,  Massachusetts,  Ken 
tucky  and  Tennessee. 


The  Presidential  administration  of 
General  Pierce  from  1853  to  1857, 
when  he  was  succeeded  by  James  Bu 
chanan,  was  an  interval  of  comparative 
repose,  marked  by  no  extraordinary 
events  of  foreign  or  domestic  policy, 
with  the  exception  of  the  revival  of 
the  slavery  agitation  in  the  passage 
of  the  Kansas  and  Nebraska  Terri 
torial  act  in  1854,  setting  aside  the 
geographical  limit  imposed  by  the 
compromise  of  1850.  In  the  late  Go 
vernor  Marcy,  President  Pierce  had 
the  services  of  a  Secretary  of  State 
of  eminent  ability,  who  conducted  the 
foreign  affairs  of  the  government  with 
firmness  and  discretion.  Among  the 
home  incidents  of  the  time  may  bo 
mentioned  the  erection  of  a  Crystal 
Palace  at  New  York,  following  the  ex 
ample  of  the  previous  great  fair  at  Lon 
don,  for  the  exhibition  of  the  industry 
of  all  nations.  This  undertaking,  which 
was  brilliantly  carried  out,  was  inaugu 
rated  by  President  Pierce  in  July, 
1853,  shortly  after  the  commencement 
of  his  administration.  After  the  close 
of  his  Presidential  term,  General  Pierce 
visited  the  island  of  Madeira  and  made 
a  prolonged  tour  in  Europe.  On  his 
return  to  America,  he  again  took  up  his 
residence  in  his  old  home  at  Concord, 
New  Hampshire. 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


THE  father  of  James  Buchanan,  the 
fifteenth  President  of  the  United  States, 
was  a  native  of  the  county  of  Donegal, 
in  the  north  of  Ireland,  who  emigrated 
to  the  United  States  in  1783,  the  year 
which  closed  the  War  of  the  Kevolu- 
tion  with  the  declaration  of  peace.  He 
came  to  America  a  poor  man,  like  thou 
sands  of  others,  to  establish  himself  on 
what  was  then,  as  it  is  in  many  districts 
still,  the  virgin  soil  of  the  New  World. 
Making  his  home  in  Pennsylvania,  he 
there  married  Miss  Elizabeth  Spear, 
the  daughter  of  a  respectable  farmer  of 
Adams  County.  With  her  he  set  out 
for  Franklin  County,  on  the  borders  of 
Maryland,  then  a  partially  cultivated 
region,  built  a  log  hut,  and  made  a 
clearing  at  a  spot  in  the  mountains  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  town  of  Mercersburg. 
At  this  place,  called  Stony  Batter, 
James  Buchanan,  the  future  President, 
was  born  April  23,  1*791.  When  he 
was  seven  years  old,  his  parents  remov 
ed  to  Mercersburg.  Being  well  inform 
ed,  and  appreciating  the  advantages  of 
a  good  education,  they  here  carefully 
provided  for  their  son's  instruction. 
The  father  had  profited  by  his  English 
schooling,  and  the  mother,  we  are  told, 
was  distinguished  by  her  strong  sense 
and  a  certain  taste  for  literature,  being 
able  to  repeat  from  memory  striking 


passages  in  Pope,  Cowper,  Milton,  and 
other  English  poets.  Her  piety  is  also 
spoken  of  as  a  noticeable  trait  of  her  cha 
racter.1  At  the  age  of  fourteen,  James 
was  sufficiently  instructed  in  English 
studies,  and  the  elements  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  classics,  to  enter  Dickinson 
College  at  Carlisle.  There  he  proved  a 
ready  student,  acquitted  himself  with 
credit,  and  took  a  leading  part  in  the 
literary  society  connected  with  the  col 
lege.  After  receiving  his  degree,  in  1 809, 
he  began  the  study  of  the  law  with  Mr. 
James  Hopkins  of  Lancaster,  and  three 
years  afterwards,  on  arriving  at  age,  was 
admitted  to  the  bar.  He  applied  him 
self  with  diligence  to  the  profession,  at 
Lancaster,  and  early  acquired  a  lucra 
tive  practice.  In  a  letter  written  more 
than  thirty  years  afterwards,  when  he 
had  risen  to  the  position  of  Secretary 
of  State,  he  recalled  the  occasion  of  his 
first  public  speech.  It  was  when  in  the 
war  with  Great  Britain,  Maryland  had 
been  invaded,  the-  capital  burnt  at 
Washington,  and  Baltimore  was  threat 
ened.  The  country  was  aroused,  and 
Mr.  Buchanan  addressed  his  fellow-citi 
zens  at  Lancaster,  urging  upon  them 
the  duty  of  volunteering  their  services 
to  resist  the  foe.  A  volunteer  company 


1   Horton's  Life  of  Buchanan,  p.  15. 


ISi! 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


183 


was  formed  on  the  spot ;  he  enlisted  in 
it  as  a  private,  and  proceeded  with  it 
to  Baltimore,  where,  the  danger  having 
passed  over,  it  was  discharged.  He  lit 
tle  thought  that  half  a  century  after 
wards  the  region  would  aj/ain  be  arous- 

o  o 

ed  in  a  similar  manner  by  the  approach 
of  a  domestic  foe,  in  a  civil  conflict  of 
which  his  own  administration,  while  he 
was  President  of  the  United  States,  was 
first  to  feel  the  shock.  In  this  same 
year,  1814,  Mr.  Buchanan  made  his  first 
entrance  on  political  life,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three,  when  he  was  elected  a 
member  of  the  Pennsylvania  Legisla 
ture.  On  taking  his  seat  he  became  an 
active  supporter  of  the  war  measures 
then  in  progress,  counselling  stringent 
means  of  defence,  and  advocating  a  loan 
to  the  General  Government  to  pay  the 
militia  of  the  State  called  into  the  pub 
lic  service. 

In  1820,  Mr.  Buchanan  took  his  seat 
in  the  House  of  Representatives,  and 
continued  a  member  by  successive  re- 
elections  for  ten  years.  This  period 
embraced  many  important  public  mea 
sures,  in  which  he  took  a  prominent 
part.  He  was  opposed  to  a  tariff  for 
protection,  and  to  a  general  bankrupt 
law;  when  John  Quincy  Adams  was 
elected,  he  opposed  his  favorite  project 
of  the  Panama  mission,  and  gave  his 
zealous  support  to  the  advancement  of 
General  Jackson.  On  that  chieftain's 
election  to  the  Presidency,  which  was 
promoted  by  his  influence  in  Pennsyl 
vania,  he  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
Judiciary  committee,  and  was  one  of 
the  five  managers  chosen  by  the  House 
to  conduct  the  prosecution  of  Judge 
James  H.  Peck,  of  the  District  Court 


of  the  United  States  for  Missouri, 
against  whom  articles  of  impeachment 
were  passed  for  an  undue  exercise  of 
authority,  in  silencing  and  imprisoning 
a  lawyer  in  his  court,  who  had  presumed 
to  criticise  one  of  his  decisions.  Judge 
Peck  was  defended  before  the  Senate 
by  William  Wirt  and  Jonathan  Meri- 
deth.  The  case  was  closed  by  Mr. 
Buchanan.  The  result  was  the  pas 
sage  of  a  law  calculated  to  prevent  a 
recurrence  -of  the  offence. 

In  1831,  Mr.  Buchanan  received  the 
appointment  from  President  Jackson  of 
Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Ple 
nipotentiary  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  the  object  of  his  mission  in 
securing  a  valuable  commercial  treaty, 
opening  to  our  merchants  important 
privileges  in  the  Russian  waters.  On 
his  return,  in  1833,  he  was  elected  to 
the  United  States  Senate,  where  he 
rendered  important  partisan  services  to 
the  administration  of  General  Jackson, 
then  closely  pressed  in  that  body  by  a 
combination  of  its  greatest  political 
leaders,  Clay,  Calhoun,  and  Webster. 
He  was  always  opposed  to  the  agitation 
of  the  subject  of  slavery  in  Congress, 
regarding  the  discussion  of  the  topic  at 
the  North  as  alike  injurious  to  the  pros 
pects  of  the  slave  and  the  integrity  of 
the  Union.  These  were  his  views  when 
the  right  of  petition  brought  the  dis 
cussion  before  Congress,  and  he  remain 
ed  steadily  on  the  side  of  the  South  in 
all  matters  of  this  nature,  where  the  in 
stitution  was  concerned.  An  ardent 
supporter  of  President  Jackson,  he,  of 
course,  gave  his  influence  in  favor  of 
the  expunging  resolutions  of  Senator 
Benton,  which  crowned  the  long  list  of 


184 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


Congressional  triumphs  of  the  retiring 
President.  To  the  administration  of 
his  successor,  Mr.  Van  Buren,  Mr.  Bu 
chanan  gave  important  aid  in  his  advo 
cacy  of  the  establishment  of  an  inde 
pendent  treasury,  and  when  that  mea 
sure  was  temporarily  set  aside  under 
the  presidency  of  General  Harrison  and 
Tyler,  he  was  urgent  in  his  efforts  to 
defeat  the  banks,  or  fiscal  institutions, 
proposed  in  its  place.  On  all  the  test 
questions  of  the  Democratic  party,  Mr. 
Buchanan  preserved  political  consist 
ency.  With  one,  in  particular,  he  espe 
cially  identified  himself — the  Annexa 
tion  of  Texas.  He  was  for  immediate 
action  on  its  first  introduction  into  the 
Senate,  and  when  it  was  afterwards 
adopted,  at  the  close  of  Tyler's  admin 
istration,  he  stood  alone  in  the  commit 
tee  on  foreign  relations  in  favor  of  the 
measure. 

Mr.  Polk  succeeded  to  the  Presidency 
in  1845,  when  Mr.  Buchanan  was  called 
to  his  cabinet  as  Secretary  of  State.  It 
was  an  important  era  in  the  foreign 
relations  of  the  country,  when  the  office 
was  no  sinecure.  The  North-western 
Boundary  question  was  to  be  settled 
with  England,  and  on  the  South-west 
ern  frontier  another  difficulty  of  no 
ordinary  magnitude  existed,  in  the 
threatened  conflict  with  Mexico.  The 
former  was  settled  on  a  compromise 
basis,  adopting  the  parallel  of  lati 
tude  of  49°  instead  of  the  ultra  de- 
maud,  insisted  upon  by  certain  mem 
bers  of  the  party,  and  advocated  in  an 
elaborate  state  paper  by  Mr.  Buchanan 
himself,  of  54°  40'.  The  Government, 
in  fact,  had  become  pledged  to  the  lat 
ter,  but  the  difficulty  was  solved  by  re 


ferring  the  matter  to  the  Senate,  where 
the  compromise  line  was  accepted.  The 
Mexican  question  was  of  graver  respon 
sibility.  It  was  met  by  the  administra 
tion  as  a  war  measure,  and  by  the  spirit 
and  energy  of  the  army  of  the  country, 
and  the  volunteers  called  to  the  field, 
was  successfully  carried  through,  while 
efforts  were  constantly  made  to  bring 
the  contest  to  an  end  by  negotiations 
for  peace.  When  the  enemy  was  tho 
roughly  humbled,  and  his  capital  gained 
possession  of,  the  latter  finally  prevail 
ed.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  our  govern 
ment  that  the  war  was  conducted  in  no 
sanguinary  spirit  of  cruelty,  and  that 
its  terms  of  reconciliation,  though  they 
proved  in  the  end  highly  advantageous 
to  the  victors,  were,  all  things  consid 
ered  neither  exacting  nor  humiliating 
to  the  conquered. 

To  the  war  with  Mexico  succeeded 
the  political  struggle  at  home  on  the 
slavery  question,  growing  out  of  the 
new  increase  of  territory.  Mr.  Bucha 
nan,  at  the  close  of  Mr.  Polk's  presi 
dency  and  the  breaking  up  of  the  cabi 
net,  had  retired  to  his  home  in  Pennsyl 
vania,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lancas 
ter.  Though  out  of  office,  however,  his 
interest  in  politics  was  not  diminished. 
When  the  contest  over  the  Wilmot  Pro 
viso  came  up,  setting  bounds  to  the  ex 
tension  of  slavery,  he  opposed  its  prin 
ciples,  and  in  his  "  Harvest-Home  Let 
ter,"  as  it  was  called,  recommended  as 
a  settlement  the  basis  p,f  the  act  of  1820, 
and  that  the  Missouri  line  be  extended 
to  the  Pacific.  When  the  Compromise 
Measures  of  1850  were  adopted,  he 
gave  them  his  approval,  urging  in  a  let 
ter  which  he  addressed  to  a  political 


JAMKS   r.rcii. \\.\\. 


185 


committee  in  Philadelphia,  "  as  the  de 
liberate  conviction  of  his  judgment,  the 
observance  of  two  things  as  necessary 
to  preserve  the  Union  from  danger: 
first,  that  agitation  in  the  North  on  the 

'  O 

subject  of  southern  slavery  must  be  re 
buked  and  put  down  by  a  strong  and 
enlightened  public  opinion ;  and,  second, 
that  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  must  be  en 
forced  in  its  spirit."  There  is  a  passage 
in  this  letter  of  interest  in  relation  to 
subsequent  events  and  the  future  posi 
tion  of  the  writer.  "  I  now  say,"  he 
wrote,  "  that  the  platform  of  our  blessed 
Union  is  strong  enough  and  broad 
enough  to  sustain  all  true-hearted  Ame 
ricans.  It  is  an  elevated — it  is  a  glori 
ous  platform,  on  which  the  down-trod 
den  nations  of  the  earth  gaze  with  hope 
and  desire,  with  admiration  and  aston 
ishment.  Our  Union  is  the  star  of  the 
West,  whose  genial  and  steadily  increas 
ing  influence  will  at  last,  should  we  re- 

O  ' 

main  an  united  people,  dispel  the  gloom 
of  despotism  from  the  ancient  nations 
of  the  world.  Its  moral  power  will 
prove  to  be  more  potent  than  millions 
of  armed  mercenaries.  And  shall  this 
glorious  star  set  in  darkness  before  it 
has  accomplished  half  its  mission  ? 
Heaven  forbid !  Let  us  all  exclaim 
with  the  heroic  Jackson,  'The  Union 
must  and  shall  be  preserved.' 

"  And  what  a  Union  has  this  been ! 
The  history  of  the  human  race  presents 
no  parallel  to  it.  The  bit  of  striped 
bunting  which  was  to  be  swept  from 
the  ocean  by  a  British  navy,  according 
to  the  predictions  of  a  British  states 
man,  previous  to  the  war  of  1812,  is 
now  displayed  on  every  sea,  and  in 
every  port  of  the  habitable  globe.  Our 

24 


glorious  stars  and  stripes,  the  flag  of 
our  country,  now  protects  Americans  in 
every  clime.  '  I  am  a  Roman  citizen  V 
was  once  the  proud  exclamation  which 
everywhere  shielded  an  ancient  Roman 
from  insult  and  injustice.  '  I  am  an 
American  citizen !'  is  now  an  exclama 
tion  of  almost  equal  potency  throughout 
the  civilized  world.  This  is  a  tribute 
due  to  the  power  and  resources  of  these 
thirty-one  United  States.  In  a  just 
cause,  we  may  defy  the  world  in  arms. 
We  have  lately  presented  a  spectacle 
which  has  astonished  the  greatest  cap 
tain  of  the  age.  At  the  call  of  their 
country,  an  irresistible  host  of  armed 
men,  and  men,  too,  skilled  in  the  use  of 
arms,  sprung  up  like  the  soldiers  of 
Cadmus,  from  the  mountains  and  val 
leys  of  our  confederacy.  The  strug 
gle  among  them  was  not  who  should 
remain  at  home,  but  who  should  enjoy 
the  privilege  of  enduring  the  dangers 
and  privations  of  a  foreign  war  in  de 
fence  of  their  country's  rights.  Heaven 
forbid  that  the  question  of  slavery 
should  ever  prove  to  be  the  stone 
thrown  into  their  midst  by  Cadmus,  to 
make  them  turn  their  arms  against 
each  other,  and  die  in  mutual  conflict. 

"  The  common  sufferings  and  com 
mon  glories  of  the  past,  the  prosperity 
of  the  present,  and  the  brilliant  hopes 
of  the  future,  must  impress  every  patri 
otic  heart  with  deep  love  and  devotion 
for  the  Union.  Who  that  is  now  a  citi 
zen  of  this  vast  Republic,  extending 
from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Rio 
Grande,  and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific,  does  not  shudder  at  the  idea  of 
being  transformed  into  a  citizen  of  one 
of  its  broken,  jealous  and  hostile  frag- 


186 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


ments?  What  patriot  had  not  rather 
shed  the  last  drop  of  his  blood,  than  see 
the  thirty-one  brilliant  stars  that  now 
float  proudly  upon  his  country's  flag, 
rudely  torn  from  the  national  banner, 
and  scattered  in  confusion  over  the  face 
of  the  earth  ? 

"  Rest  assured  that  all  the  patriotic 
emotions  of  every  true-hearted  Pennsyl- 
vanian,  in  favor  of  the  Union  and  Con 
stitution,  are  shared  by  the  southern 
people.  What  battle-field  has  not  been 
illustrated  by  their  gallant  deeds ;  and 
when,  in  our  history,  have  they  ever 
shrunk  from  sacrifices  and  sufferings  in 
the  cause  of  their  country?  What, 
then,  means  the  muttering  thunder 
which  we  hear  from  the  South  ?  The 
signs  of  the  times  are  truly  portentous. 
Whilst  many  in  the  South  openly  ad 
vocate  the  cause  of  secession  and  disun 
ion,  a  large  majority,  as  I  firmly  believe, 
still  fondly  cling  to  the  Union,  await 
ing  with  deep  anxiety  the  action  of  the 
North  on  the  compromise  lately  effected 
in  Congress.  Should  this  be  disregard 
ed  and  nullified  by  the  citizens  of  the 
North,  the  southern  people  may  become 
united,  and  then  farewell,  a  long  fare 
well  to  our  blessed  Union.  I  am  no 
alarmist ;  but  a  brave  and  wise  man 
looks  danger  steadily  in  the  face.  This 
is  the  best  means  of  avoiding  it.  I  am 
deeply  impressed  with  the  conviction 
that  the  North  neither  sufficiently  un 
derstands  nor  appreciates  the  danger." 

Mr.  Buchanan  lived  in  comparative 
retirement  at  his  Lancaster  home  till, 
on  Mr.  Pierce  being  chosen  President, 
he  was,  in  1853,  appointed  minister  to 
England.  He  accepted  the  post,  and 
was  occupied,  in  the  course  of  its  du 


ties,  in  a  negotiation  of  the  Central 
American  question,  and  also,  incident 
ally,  in  a  discussion  respecting  the  pos 
session  of  the  island  of  Cuba.  The  lat 
ter,  known  as  the  Ostend  Conference, 
grew  out  of  the  design  of  tlie  President 
to  purchase  the  island  if  possible,  from 
Spain,  and  for  this  purpose  a  consulta 
tion  was  had  in  Europe  between  the 
American  Ministers  to  Spain,  France, 
and  England,  who  might  aid  the  under 
taking  by  mutual  counsel.  The  history 
of  this  proceeding  is  thus  given  in  the 
recent  notice  of  President  Buchanan  in 
"  Appleton's  Cyclopedia."  "  Ostend  was 
first  selected  for  the  place  of  meeting  ; 
but  the  conferences  were  subsequently 
adjourned  to  Aix  la  Chapelle.  The 
American  Ministers  kept  written  min 
utes  of  their  proceedings,  and  of  the 
conclusions  arrived  at,  for  the  purpose 
of  future  reference,  and  for  the  informa 
tion  of  their  government  at  home. 
These  minutes  were  afterwards  styled 
a  '  protocol,'  though  they  contained  no 
thing;  but  memoranda  to  be  forwarded 

o 

for  consideration  to  the  authorities  in 
Washington.  They  were  not  intended 
to  be  submitted  to  a  foreign  power. 
They  contained  no  proposition,  laid 
down  no  rule  of  action,  and  in  no  man 
ner  whatever  interfered  with  our  regu 
lar  diplomatic  intercourse.  The  Presi 
dent  desired  to  know  the  opinions  of 
our  Ministers  abroad  on  a  subject  which 
deeply  concerned  the  United  States, 
and  the  Ministers  were  bound  to  furnish 
it  to  him.  Their  minutes  exhibited  the 
importance  of  the  island  to  the  United 
States,  in  a  commercial  and  strategical 
point  of  view;  the  advantages  that 
would  accrue  to  Spain  from  the  sale  of 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


187 


it  at  a  fair  pi-ice,  such  as  the  United 
States  might  be  willing  to  pay  for  it ; 
the  difficulty  which  Spain  would  en 
counter  in  endeavoring  to  keep  posses 
sion  of  it  by  mere  military  power ;  the 
sympathy  of  the  people  of  the  United 
States  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  island, 
and,  finally,  the  possibility  that  Spain, 
as  a  last  resort,  might  endeavor  to  Afri 
canize  Cuba,  and  become  instrumental 
in  the  reenacting  of  the  scenes  of  St. 
Domingo.  The  American  Ministers  be- 
.lieved  that  in  case  Cuba  was  about  to 
be  transformed  into  another  St.  Do 
mingo,  the  example  might  act  pernici 
ously  on  the  slave  population  of  the 
Southern  States  of  our  own  confederacy, 
and  there  excite  the  blacks  to  similar 
deeds  of  violence.  In  this  case,  they 
held  that  the  instinct  of  self-preserva 
tion  would  call  for  the  armed  interven 
tion  of  the  United  States,  and  we  should 
be  justified  in  wresting  the  island  by 
force  from  Spain." 

Mr.  Buchanan  returned  home  in  the 
spring  of  1856,  and  in  the  following 
summer  received  the  nomination  for  the 
Presidency  from  the  Democratic  con 
vention  which  met  at  Cincinnati.  In 
the  contest  which  ensued  writh  Colonel 
Fremont,  the  candidate  of  the  new  Re 
publican  party,  he  was  elected  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States  by  the  vote 
of  nineteen  out  of  thirty-one  States. 
The  popular  vote  was,  for  Buchanan, 
1,803,029;  for  Fremont,  1,342,164;  for 
Fillmore,  874,625.  The  main  interest 
of  Mr.  Buchanan's  administration  cen 
tered  in  the  discussion  of  the  control  of 
the  territories  in  reference  to  the  intro 
duction  of  slavery.  The  ominous  agi 
tations  regarding  Kansas,  itself  the  the 


atre  of  bloody  conflict,  employed  much 
of  this  period.  At  the  close  of  Mr.  Bu 
chanan's  term,  the  clouds  which  had 
been  gathering  since  its  commencement 
broke  in  the  storm  of  war.  The  elec 
tion  of  his  successor,  Mr.  Lincoln,  the 
candidate  of  the  Republican  party,  was 
followed  by  secession  in  the  Southern 
States,  and  there  was  no  weapon  in  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Buchanan  powerful  enough 
to  arrest  the  rebellion.  lie  spoke  en- 
treatingly,  persuasively,  in  favor  of  the 
preservation  of  the  Union ;  but  the 
South,  whose  interests  he  had  so  long 
served,  was  deaf  to  his  appeals. 

His   concluding   annual  message,  at 

CD  O      ' 

the  opening  of  Congress  in  December, 
1860,  was  full  of  despondency,  the  con 
sciously  vain  effort  of  a  disappointed 
statesman  to  resist  the  overwhelming 
tide  which  was  approaching.  The  South 
had  placed  itself  in  an  attitude  of 
threatened  opposition  to  the  inaugura 
tion  of  President  Lincoln-.  President 
Buchanan,  with  a  certain  simplicity,  re 
minded  the  disaffected  that  "the  elec 
tion  of  any  one  of  our  fellow-citizens  to 
the  office  of  President,  does  not  of  itself 
afford  just  cause  for  dissolving  the 
Union  ;"  adding, "  this  is  more  especially 
true  if  his  election  has  been  effected  by 
a  mere  plurality,  and  not  a  majority  of 
the  people,  and  has  resulted  from  tran 
sient  and  temporary  causes  which  may 
probably  never  again  occur.  In  order 
to  justify  a  resort  to  revolutionary  re 
sistance,  the  Federal  Government  must 
be  guilty  of  a  deliberate,  palpable,  and 
dangerous  exercise  of  powers  not  grant 
ed  by  the  Constitution.  The  late  Pre 
sidential  election,  however,  has  been 
held  in  strict  conformity  with  its  ex- 


188 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


press  provisions.  How,  then,  can  the 
result  justify  a  revolution  to  destroy 
this  very  Constitution?  Reason,  jus 
tice,  a  regard  for  the  Constitution,  all 
require  that  we  shall  wait  for  some 
overt  and  dangerous  act  on  the  part  of 
the  President  elect,  before  resorting  to 
such  a  remedy.  *  *  After  all,  he  is  no 
more  than  the  chief  executive  officer  of 
the  government.  His  province  is  not 
to  make,  but  to  execute  the  laws ;  and 
it  is  a  remarkable  fact  in  our  history 
that,  notwithstanding  the  repeated  ef 
forts  of  the  anti-slavery  party,  no  single 
act  has  ever  passed  Congress,  unless  we 
may  possibly  except  the  Missouri  Com 
promise,  impairing  in  the  slightest  de 
gree  the  rights  of  the  South  to  their 
property  in  slaves.  And  it  may  also 
be  observed,  judging  from  present  indi 
cations,  that  no  probability  exists  of  the 
passage  of  such  an  act  by  a  majority  of 
both  Houses,  either  in  the  present  or 
the  next  Congress.  Surely,  under  these 
circumstances,  we  ought  to  be  restrained 
from  present  action  by  the  precept  of 
Him.  who  spake  as  never  man  spake, 
that  '  sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof.'  The  day  of  evil  may  never 
come,  unless  we  shall  rashly  bring  it 
upon  ourselves."  After  presenting  other 
considerations  showing  how  little  dan 
ger  there  really  existed  for  apprehen 
sion  on  the  part  of  the  South,  he  turned 
to  an  examination  of  the  doctrine  of  Se 
cession  as  it  was  openly  advocated  by  a 
large  class  of  disaffected  politicians.  "  In 
order,"  said  he,  "  to  justify  secession  as 
a  Constitutional  remedy,  it  must  be  on 
the  principle  that  the  Federal  Govern 
ment  is  a  mere  voluntary  association  of 
States,  to  be  disolved  at  pleasure  by 


any  one  of  the  contracting  parties.     If 
this  be  so,  the  confederacy  is  a  rope  of 
sand,  to  be  penetrated  and  dissolved  by 
the  first  adverse  wave  of  public  opinion 
in  any  of  the  States.     In  this  manner 
our   thirty-three    States    may    resolve 
themselves  into  so  many  petty,  jarring, 
and  hostile  republics,  each  one  retiring 
from  the  Union  without  responsibility, 
whenever  any  sudden  excitement  might 
impel  them  to  such  a  course.     By  this 
process,  a  Union  might  be  entirely  bro 
ken  into  fragments  in  a  few  weeks, which 
cost  our  forefathers  many  years  of  toil, 
privation,  and  blood  to  establish."     He 
further  supported  the  obvious  doctrine 
of    the    paramount    authority   of    the 
Union  by  references  to  the  opinions  of 
Madison  and  Jackson,  and  a  deduction 
from  the  express  provisions  of  the  Con 
stitution.     "This  Government,"  he  con 
cluded,  "  is  a  great  and  powerful  Gov 
ernment,  invested  with  all  the  attributes 
of  sovereignty  over  the  special  subjects 
to   which   its    authority   extends.     Its 
framers  never  intended  to  implant  in  its 
bosom  the  seeds  of  its  own  destruction, 
nor  were  they  at  its  creation  guilty  of 
the  absurdity  of  providing  for  its  own 
dissolution.     It  was  not  intended  by  its 
framers  to  be  the  baseless  fabric  of  a 
vision  which,  at  the  touch  of  the  en 
chanter,  would  vanish  into  thin  air ;  but 
a  substantial  and  mighty  fabric,  capa 
ble  of  resisting  the  slow  decay  of  time, 
and  of  defying  the  storms  of  ages.     In 
deed,  well  may  the  jealous  patriots  of 
that  day  have   indulged   fears  that  a 
government  of  such  high  powers  might 
violate  the  reserved  rights  of  the  States, 
and  wisely  did  they  adopt  the  rule  of  a 
strict  construction  of  these  powers  to 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


189 


pivvent  the  danger.  But  they  did  not 
fear,  nor  had  they  any  reason  to  ima 
gine,  that  the  Constitution  would  ever 
be  so  interpreted  as  to  enable  any 
State,  by  her  own  act,  and  without  the 
consent  of  her  sister  States,  to  discharge 
her  people  from  all  or  any  of  their  Fed 
eral  obligations.  It  may  be  asked, 
then,  are  the  people  of  the  States  with 
out  redress  against  the  tyranny  and 
oppression  of  the  Federal  Government  ? 
By  no  means.  The  right  of  resistance 
on  the  part  of  the  governed  against  the 
oppression  of  their  governments  cannot 
be  denied.  It  exists  independently  of 
all  constitutions,  and  has  been  exercised 
at  all  periods  of  the  world's  history. 
Under  it  old  governments  have  been 
destroyed,  and  new  ones  have  taken 
their  place.  It  is  embodied  in  strong 
and  express  language  in  our  own  Decla 
ration  of  Independence.  But  the  dis. 
tinction  must  ever  be  observed,  that 
this  is  revolution  against  established 
government,  and  not  a  voluntary  seces 
sion  from  it  by  virtue  of  an  inherent 
constitutional  right.  In  short,  let  us 
look  the  danger  fairly  in  the  face :  seces 
sion  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  revo. 
lution.  It  may  or  it  may  not  be  a  jus 
tifiable  revolution,  but  still  it  is  revolu 
tion." 

Having  thus  established  the  legal  in 
ability  of  a  State  to  withdraw  from  the 
confederacy  at  will,  he  proceeded  to  dis 
cuss  the  "responsibility  and  true  posi 
tion  of  the  Executive"  under  the  cir 
cumstances.  His  duty  was,  according 
to  the  words  of  his  oath,  "  to  take  care 
that  the  laws  be  faithfully  executed." 
The  administration  of  justice  by  the 
Federal  judiciary  naturally  first  present 


ed  itself;  but  in  South  Carolina  he 
found  this  was  now  impracticable.  The 
officers  of  justice  in  that  State  had  re 
signed,  the  whole  machinery  of  the 
courts  had  been  broken  up,  and  "it 
would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to 
replace  it."  The  revenue,  indeed,  still 
continued  to  be  collected  in  the.  State, 
and  as  for  the  public  property  in  the 
forts,  magazines,  arsenals,  etc.,  the  belief 
was  expressed  that  no  attempt  would 
be  made  to  expel  the  United  States 
from  its  possession ;  "  but  if  in  this  I 
should  prove  to  be  mistaken,"  said  the 
President, "  the  officer  in  command  of  the 
forts  has  received  orders  to  act  strictly 
on  the  defensive.  In  such  a  contin 
gency,  the  responsibility  for  conse 
quences  would  rightfully  rest  upon  the 
heads  of  the  assailants." 

The  mere  mention  of  such  points  was 
ominous  of  war,  and  the  President  per 
ceived  the  tendency.  He  felt  the  diffi 
culties  of  his  situation  and  submitted 
them  to  Congress.  In  doing  this,  how 
ever,  he  added  to  his  argument  against 
secession  another,  denying  to  that  body 
the  possession  of  any  power  under  the 
Constitution  "  to  coerce  a  State  into 
submission  which  is  attempting  to  with 
draw,  or  has  actually  withdrawn  from 
the  confederacy."  His  conclusion  on 
this  subject  was  this : — "  The  power  to 
make  war  against  a  State  is  at  variance 
with  the  w;hole  spirit  and  intent  of  the 
Constitution.  Suppose  (he  added),  such 
a  war  should  result  in  the  conquest 
of  a  State,  how  are  we  to  govern  it 
afterwards?  Shall  we  hold  it  as  a 
province,  and  govern  it  by  despotic 
power  ?  .  .  .  The  fact  is,  that  our 
Union  rests  upon  public  opinion  and 


190 


JAMES    BUCHANAN. 


can  never  be  cemented  by  the  blood 
of  its  citizens  shed  in  civil  war.  If 
it  cannot  live  in  the  aifections  of  the 
people,  it  must  one  day  perish.  Con 
gress  possesses  many  means  of  preserv 
ing  it  by  conciliation ;  but  the  sword 
was  not  placed  in  their  hands  to  pre 
serve  it  by  force." 

As  an  escape  from  this  threatened 
evil  of  secession,  President  Buchanan 
recommended  that  an  amendment  of  the 
Constitution  should  be  adopted,  initia 
ted  either  by  Congress  or  the  State  Le 
gislatures,  according  to  the  provisions 
of  that  instrument,  "confined  to  the 
final  settlement  of  the  true  construction 
of  the  Constitution  on  three  special 
points  : — 1st.  An  express  recognition 
of  the  right  of  property  in  slaves  in  the 
States  where  it  now  exists  or  may  here 
after  exist.  2d.  The  duty  of  protecting 
this  right  in  all  the  common  Territories 
throughout  their  territorial  existence, 
and  until  they  shall  be  admitted  as 
States  into  the  Union,  with  or  without 
slavery,  as  their  Constitutions  may  pre 
scribe.  3d.  A  like  recognition  of  the 
right  of  the  master  to  have  his  slave, 
who  has  escaped  from  one  State  to  an 
other,  restored  and  'delivered  up'  to 
him,  and  of  the  validity  of  the  Fugitive 
Slave  Law  enacted  for  this  purpose, 
together  with  a  declaration  that  all 
State  laws  impairing  or  defeating  this 
right  are  violations  of  the  Constitution, 
and  are  consequently  null  and  void." 

Such  was  the  attitude  of  President 
Buchanan  in  sight  of  the  impending  re 
volution,  and  such  the  suggestions  which 


he  made  to  resist  its  progress.  The  cri 
sis  which  had  arrived,  beyond  the  con 
trol  of  palliatives,  was  destined  to  shat 
ter  his  political  creed. 

Beset  with  doubts  and  difficulties, 
but  true  to  the  plain  duty  before  him, 
he  incurred  the  censure  of  the  Commis 
sioners  sent  to  Washington  from  South 

O 

Carolina,  by  his  resistance  to  their  de 
mand  of  the  withdrawal  of  Major  An 
derson  and  his  command  from  Fort 
Sumter.  "  This,"  said  he,  in  his  letter 
of  the  30th  of  December,  in  answer  to 
their  extraordinary  request,  "  I  cannot 
do — this  I  will  not  do."  A  few  days 
after,  on  the  8th  of  January,  he  sent  a 
special  message  to  Congress,  in  which, 
while  reiterating  his  previously  express 
ed  views,  he  maintained  "  the  right  and 
the  duty  to  use  military  force  defen 
sively  against  those  who  resist  the  Fe 
deral  officers  in  the  execution  of  their 
legal  functions,  and  against  those  who 
assail  the  property  of  the  Federal  Gov 
ernment." 

The  war  which  he  feared  was  now 

inevitable,  and  preparations,  at  last, 
were  to  be  made  to  meet  it.  Deserted 
by  his  old  Southern  friends  in  Con 
gress,  and  even  in  his  cabinet,  President 
Buchanan  summoned  to  his  aid  new 
counsellors  like  Scott,  Dix,  Stanton, 
Holt,  and  others  whose  patriotism  re 
deemed  the  last  days  of  his  administra 
tion.  In  weakness,  sorrow,  almost  in 
despair  of  the  future  of  his  country,  he 
assisted  at  the  inauguration  of  his  suc 
cessor,  and  left  Washington  for  the  re 
tirement  of  his  home  in  Pennsylvania. 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  was  born  Feb 
ruary  J2th,  1809,  in  a  district  of  liar- 
din  County,  now  included  in  Lraue 
County,  Kentucky.  His  father  and 
grandfather,  sprung  from  a  Quaker 
family  in  Pennsylvania,  were  born  in 
Rockingham  County,  Virginia.  Thence 
the  grandfather,  Abraham  Lincoln,  re- 
jnoved  to  Kentucky,  where,  encounter 
ing  the  fortunes  of  the  first  settlers,  he 
was  slain  by  the  Indians,  about  the 
year  1784.  His  third  and  youngest  son, 
Thomas,  brought  up  to  a  life  of  rude 
country  industry,  in  1806  married  Nancy 
Hanks,  of  Kentucky,  a  native  of  Virgin 
ia,  so  that  the  blood  of  Abraham  Lin 
coln  is  directly  traceable  to  the  Old  Do 
minion — the  mother  of  Presidents. 

The  parents,  it  is  said,  partly  on 
account  of  slavery,  partly  on  account 
of  the  disputed  Kentucky  land  titles, 
removed  to  a  new  forest  home,  in  what 
is  now  Spencer  County,  Indiana,  when 
their  son  Abraham  was  in  his  eighth 
year.  The  task  before  the  settlers  was 
the  clearing  of  the  farm  in  the  wilder 
ness;  and  in  this  labor  and  its  inci 
dents  of  hunting  and  agricultural  toils 
the  rugged  boy  grew  up  to  manhood, 
receiving  such  elementary  instruction 
as  the  occasional  schoolmasters  of  the 
region  afforded.  Taken  altogether,  it 
was  very  little — for  the  time  which  he 


attended  schools  of  any  kind,  was  in 
the  whole  less  than  a  year.  His  know 
ledge  from  books  was  to  be  worked  out 

O 

solely  by  himself;  the  vigorous  life 
around  him  and  rough  experience  were 
to  teach  him  the  rest.  His  first  adven 
ture  in  the  world  was  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  when  hired  as  an  assistant  to 
a  son  of  the  owner,  the  two,  without 
other  aid,  navigated  a  flat  boat  to  New 

O 

Orleans,  trading  by  the  way — an  ex 
cursion  on  which  more  might  be  learnt 
of  human  nature  than  in  a  year  at  col 
lege.  At  twenty-one,  he  followed  his 
father,  who  had  now  married  a  second 
time,  to  a  new  settlement  in  Macon 
County,  Illinois,  where  a  log  cabin  was 
built  by  the  family,  and  the  land  fenced 
in  by  rails,  vigorously  and  abundantly 
split  by  the  stalwart  Abraham. 

The  rail-splitter  of  Illinois  was  yet  to 
be  summoned  to  a  fiercer  conflict.  To 
build  a  flat-boat  was  no  great  change 
of  occupation  for  one  so  familiar  with 
the  axe.  He  was  engaged  in  tins  work 
on  the  Sangamon  River,  and  in  taking 

O  ,  O 

the  craft  afterward  to  New  Orleans, 
serving  on  his  return  as  clerk  in  charge 
of  a  store  and  mill  at  New  Salem,  be 
longing  to  his  employer.  The  breaking 
out  of  the  Black-Hawk  war  in  Illinois, 
in  1832,  gave  him  new  and  more 
spirited  occupation.  He  joined  a  vo- 

191 


192 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


lunteer  company,  was  elected  captain, 
served  through  a  three  months'  cam 
paign,  and  was  in  due  time  rewarded 
by  his  share  of  bounty  lands  in  Iowa. 
A  popular  man  in  his  neighborhood, 
doubtless  from  his  energy,  sagacity, 
humor,  and  innate  benevolence  of  dis 
position,  admirably  qualifying  him  as  a 
representative  of  the  West,  or  of  human 
nature  in  its  better  condition  anywhere, 
he  was,  on  return  from  the  war,  set  up 
as  a  Whig  candidate  for  the  Legisla 
ture,  in  which  he  was  beaten  in  the 
district,  though  his  own  precinct,  demo 
cratic  as  it  too  was,  gave  him  277  out 
of  284  votes.  Unsettled,  and  on  the 
lookout  for  occupation  in  the  world,  he 
now  again  fell  in  charge  of  a  country 
store  at  New  Salem,  over  the  counter 
of  which  he  gained  knowledge  of  men, 
but  little  pecuniary  profit.  The  store, 
in  fact,  was  a  failure,  but  the  man  was 
not.  He  had  doubtless  chopped  logic, 
as  heretofore  timber,  with  his  neigh 
bors,  and  democrats  had  felt  the  edge 
of  his  argument.  Some  confidence  of 
this  nature  led  him  to  think  of  the  law 
as  a  profession.  Working  out  his  prob 
lem  of  self-education,  he  would  borrow 
a  few  books  from  a  lawyer  of  the  vil 
lage  in  the  evening,  read  them  at 
night,  and  return  them  in  the  morning. 
A  turn  at  official  surveying  in  the 
county  meanwhile,  by  its  emoluments, 
assisted  him  to  live.  In  1834,  he  was 
elected,  by  a  large  vote  to  the  Legisla 
ture,  and  again  in  1836,  '38,  and  '40. 
In  1836,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar, 
and  the  following  year  commenced 
practice  at  Springfield,  with  his  fellow- 
representative  in  the  Legislature,  Major 
John  K.  Stuart.  He  rapidly  acquired 


a  reputation  by  his  success  in  jury 
trials,  in  which  he  cleared  up  difficul 
ties  with  a  sagacious,  ready  humor,  and 
a  large  and  growing  stock  of  apposite 
familiar  illustrations.  Politics  and  the 
bar,  as  usual  in  the  West,  in  his  case 
also  went  together;  a  staunch  sup 
porter  of  Whig  principles  in  the  midst 
of  the  democracy,  he  canvassed  the 
State  for  Henry  Clay  in  1844,  making 
numerous  speeches  of  signal  ability, 
and  in  1846,  was  elected  to  Congress 
from  the  central  district  of  Illinois. 
During  his  term  he  was  distinguished 
by  his  advocacy  of  free  soil  principles, 
voting  in  favor  of  the  right  of  petition, 
and  steadily  supporting  the  Wilmot 
proviso  prohibiting  slavery  in  the  new 
territories.  He  also  proposed  a  plan 
of  compensated  emancipation,  with  the 
consent  of  a  majority  of  the  owners,  for 
the  District  of  Columbia,  A  member 
of  the  Whig  National  Convention  of 
1848,  he  supported  the  nomination  of 
General  Taylor  for  the  Presidency,  in 
an  active  canvass  of  Illinois  and  In 
diana.  In  1856,  he  was  recommended 
by  the  Illinois  delegation  as  a  candidate 
for  the  Vice  Presidency,  on  the  Repub 
lican  ticket  with  Colonel  Fremont.  In 
1858,  he  was  nominated  as  candidate 
for  United  States  Senator  in  opposition 
to  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  and  "  took  the 
stump  "  in  joint  debate  with  that  pow 
erful  antagonist  of  the  Democratic 
party,  delivering  a  series  of  speeches 
during  the  summer  and  autumn,  in  the 
chief  towns  and  cities  of  the  State.  In 
the  first  of  these  addresses  to  the  He- 
publican  State  Convention  at  Spring 
field,  June  17th,  he  uttered  a  me 
morable  declaration  on  the  subject 


A  I'.ll  All  AM     LINCOLN. 


193 


of  -lavery,  much  quoted  in  the  stirring 
controversies  which  afterwarda  en<ued. 
'•  We  are  now,"  said  he.  "far  into  the 
fifth  year  since  a  polic\  was  initiated 
•with  the  avowed  object,  and  confident 
promise  of  putting  an  end  to  slavery 
agitations.  Under  the  operation  of  that 
policy,  that  a- it  at  ion  has  not  only  not 
ceased,  Imt  has  constantly  augmented. 
In  my  opinion,  it  will  not  cease  until 
a  crisis  shall  have  been  reached  and 
(1.  'A  house  divided  against  itself 
cannot  stand.'  I  believe  this  govern 
ment  cannot  endure  permanently,  half 
slave  and  half  free.  I  do  not  expect  the 
l*n ion  to  be  dissolved — I  do  not  expect 
the  house  to  fall;  but  I  do  expect  it 
will  cease  to  be  divided.  It  will  be 
come  all  one  thing  or  all  the  other." 

Other  opinions  expressed  by  him  in 
tli is  political  campaign,  while  they  ex 
hibited  him  as  no  friend  to  slavery, 
placed  him  on  the  ground  of  a  constitu 
tional  opposition  to  the  institution.  In 
answer  to  a  series  of  questions  pro 
posed  by  Mr.  Douglas,  he  replied  that 
he  was  not  in  favor  of  the  unconditional 
repeal  of  the  fugitive  slave  law;  that 
he  was  not  pledged  against  the  admis 
sion  of  any  more  slave  States  into  the 
Union,  nor  to  the  admission  of  a  new 
State  into  the  Union  with  such  a  con 
stitution  as  the  people  of  that  State 
may  see  fit  to  make,  nor  to  the  abo 
lition  of  slaver}7  in  the  District  of 
Columbia,  nor  to  the  prohibition  of  the 
slave  trade  between  the  different  States; 
while  he  was  "impliedly,  if  not  ex- 
-ly,  pledged  to  a  belief  in  the 
riulit  and  duty  of  Congress  to  prohibit 
slavery  in  all  the  United  Slates  Terri 
tories."  With  regard  n>  the  acquisition 

25 


of  any  new  territory,  unless  slavery  is 
first  prohibited  therein,  he  answered: 
"  I  am  not  generally  oppo.-ed  to  h<>ne-t 
acquisition  of  territory;  and  in  any 
given  case,  I  would  or  would  not  op 
pose  such  acquisition,  accordingly  as  I 
might  think  it  would  or  would  not 
aggravate  the  slavery  question  among 
ourselves."  Mr.  Lincoln,  in  fine,  while 
he  held  the  firmest  opinions  on  the 
evil  of  slavery  as  an  institution,  and  its 
detriment  to  the  prosperity  of  the 
country,  was  not  disposed  to  transcend 
the  principles  or  pledges  of  the  Consti 
tution  for  its  suppression.  lie  would 
not,  without  regard  to  circumstances, 
press  even  the  legitimate  powers  of 
Congress.  Of  the  vexed  negro  question, 
he  said  further,  on  a  particular  occa 
sion  in  those  debates  :  "  I  have  no  pur 
pose,  directly. or  indirectly,  to  interfere 
with  the  institution  of  slavery  in  the 
States  where  it  now  exists.  I  believe 
I  have  no  lawful  right  to  do  so,  and  I 
have  no  inclination  to  do  so.  I  have 
no  purpose  to  introduce  political  and 
social  equality  between  the  white  and 
the  black  races.  There  is  a  physical 
difference  between  the  two,  which,  in 
my  judgment,  will  probably  forever 
forbid  their  living  together  upon  the 
footing  of  perfect  equality,  and  inas 
much  as  it  becomes  a  necessity  thai- 
there  must  be  a  difference,  I,  as  well  as 
Judge  Douglas,  am  in  favor  of  the  race 

t<>  \\hich  1  belong  having  the  superior 
position.  I  have  never  said  anything 
to  the  contrary;  but  I  hold  that,  not 
withstanding  all  this,  there  is  no  rea->n 
in  the  world  why  the  negro  is  not  en 
titled  to  all  the  natural  rights  enu 
merated  in  the  Declaration  of  Iride- 


194 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


pendence — the  right  to  life,  liberty, 
and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  I  hold 
that  he  is  as  much  entitled  to  these  as 
the  white  man.  I  agree  with  Judge 
Douglas  he  is  not  my  equal  in  many 
respects — certainly  not  in  color,  per 
haps  not  in  moral  or  intellectual  en 
dowment.  But  in  the  right  to  eat  the 
bread,  without  the  leave  of  any  one 
else,  which  his  own  hand  earns,  he  is  my 
equal,  and  the  equal  of  Judge  Douglas, 
and  the  equal  of  every  living  man." 

This  contested  Douglas  and  Lincoln 
election  in  Illinois  ended  in  the  choice 
of  a  Legislature  which  sent  the  former 
to  the  United  States  Senate,  though 
the  Republican  candidates  pledged  to 
Mr.  Lincoln  received  a  larger  aggregate 
vote. 

Mr.  Lincoln,  now  a  prominent  man  in 
the  West,  was  looked  to  by  the  rapidly 
developing  Republican  party  as  a  lead 
ing  expounder  of  its  principles  in  that 
region.  In  the  autumn  and  winter  of 
1859,  he  visited  various  parts  of  the 
country,  delivering  lectures  on  the  poli 
tical  aspect  of  the  times,  and  was  con 
stantly  received  with  favor.  In  a  speech 
which  he  made,  addressing  a  mixed  as 
sembly  at  Leavenworth,  in  Kansas,  in 
this  season,  the  following  passage  oc 
curred,  which,  read  by  the  light  of  sub 
sequent  events,  appears  strangely  pro 
phetic.  "  But  you,  Democrats,"  said 
he,  "  are  for  the  Union ;  and  you  greatly 
fear  the  success  of  the  •  Republicans 
would  destroy  the  Union.  Why  ?  Do 
the  Republicans  declare  against  the 
Union?  Nothing  like  it.  Your  own 
statement  of  it  is,  that  if  the  Black 
Republicans  elect  a  President,  you 
won't  stand  it!  You  will  break  up 


the  Union.  That  will  be  your  act,  not 
ours.  To  justify  it,  you  must  show 
that  our  policy  gives  you  just  cause  for 
such  desperate  action.  Can  you  do 
that  \  When  you  attempt  it,  you  will 
find  that  our  policy  is  exactly  the  policy 
of  the  men  who  made  the  Union. 
Nothing  more  and  nothing  less.  Do  you 
really  think  you  are  justified  to  break 
up  the  government  rather  than  have 
it  administered  as  it  was  by  Washing 
ton,  and  other  great  and  good  men  who 
made  it,  and  first  administered  it  ?  If 
you  do,  you  are  very  unreasonable,  and 
more  reasonable  men  cannot  and  will 
not  submit  to  you.  While  you  elect 
Presidents  we  submit,  neither  break 
ing  nor  attempting  to  break  up  the 
Union.  If  we  shall  constitutionally 
elect  a  President,  it  will  be  our  duty  to 
see  that  you  also  submit.  Old  John 
Brown  has  been  executed  for  treason 
against  a  State.  We  cannot  object, 
even  though  he  agreed  with  us  in 
thinking  slavery  wrong.  That  cannot 
excuse  violence,  bloodshed,  and  trea 
son.  It  could  avail  him  nothing  that 
he  might  think  himself  right.  So,  if 
constitutionally  we  elect  a  President, 
and,  therefore,  you  undertake  to  de 
stroy  the  Union,  it  will  be  our  duty  to 
deal  with  you  as  old  John  Brown  has 
been  dealt  with.  We  shall  try  to  do 
our  duty.  We  hope  and  believe  that 
in  no  section  will  a  majority  so  act  as 
to  render  such  extreme  measures  neces 
sary." 

In  the  ensuing  nomination,  in  1860, 
for  the  Presidency,  by  the  National 
Republican  Convention  at  Chicago,  Mr. 
Lincoln,  on  the  third  ballot,  was  pre 
ferred  to  Mr.  Seward  by  a  decided 


ABKAHAM     LINCOLN. 


195 


•  .  :unl  placed  before  the  country  as 
thf  candidate  of  the  Republican  five- 
soil  party.  lie  had  three  rivals  in  the 
field:  Breckinridge,  representing  the 
old  Southern  pro-slavery  Democratic 
party;  Douglas,  its  ne\v,  "popular 
sovereignty"  modification;  Bell,  a  res 
pectable,  cautious  conservatism.  In 
thf  election,  of  the  entire  popular  vote, 
4,66LM7<>,  Mr.  Lincoln  received  1,857,- 
610;  Mr.  Douglas,  1,365,976;  Mr. 
Breckinridge,  847,053;  and  Mr.  Bell, 
590,631.  Every  free  State  except  New 
Jersey,  where  the  vote  was  divided, 
voted  for  Lincoln,  giving  him  seventeen 
out  of  the  thirty-three  States  which 
then  composed  the  Union.  In  nine  of 
the  slave  States,  besides  South  Carolina, 
he  had  no  electoral  ticket.  Alabama, 
Arkansas,  Delaware,  Florida,  Georgia, 
Louisiana,  Maryland,  Mississippi,  North 
and  South  Carolina,  Texas,  cast  their 
votes  for  Breckinridge  and  Lane,  72 ; 
for  Bell  and  Everett,  39 ;  for  Douglas 
and  Johnson,  12. 

The  "  Platform  "  or  series  of  resolu 
tions  of  the  Republican  Convention  by 
which  Mr.  Lincoln  was  nominated  lor 
the  Presidency,  were  explicit  on  the 
principles  and  objects  of  the  partv. 
The  highest  devotion  was  expressed  for 
the  Union,  with  a  political  instinct 
seemingly  prescient  of  the  future.  It 
was  declared  that  "  to  the  Union  of  the 
States  this  nation  owes  its  unprece 
dented  increase  in  population ;  its  sur 
prising  development  of  material  re 
sources;  its  rapid  augmentation  of 
wealth ;  its  happiness  at  home,  and  its 
honor  abroad;  and  we  hold  in  abhor 
rence  all  schemes  for  disunion,  come 
Horn  whatever  source  they  may ;  and 


we  congratulate  the  country  that  no 
Republican  ineinber  of  Congress  has 
uttered  or  Countenanced  a  threat  of  dis 
union,  so  often  made  by  Democratic 
members  of  Congress  without  rebuke, 
and  with  applause  from  their  political 
associates;  and  we  denounce  those 
threats  of  disunion,  in  case  of  a  popu 
lar  overthrow  of  their  ascendency,  as 
denying  the  vital  principles  of  a  free 
government,  and  as  an  avowal  of  con 
templated  treason,  which  it  is  the  im 
perative  duty  of  an  indignant  people 
strongly  to  rebuke  and  forever  silence. 

The  "  maintenance  inviolate  of  the 
rights  of  the  States,  and  especially  of 
each  State  to  order  and  control  its  own 
domestic  institutions  according  to  its 
own  judgment  exclusively,"  was  de 
clared  to  be  essential  to  "that  balance 
of  power  on  which  the  perfection  and  en 
durance  of  our  political  faith  depends," 
and  "  the  lawless  invasion  by  armed 
force  of  any  State  or  Territory,  no  mat 
ter  under  what  pretext,"  was  denounced 
"as  among  the  gravest  of  crimes." 
The  existing  Democratic  administra 
tion  was  arraigned  for  its  "ineasureK  >s 
subserviency  to  the  exactions  of  a  sec 
tional  interest,  as  is  especially  evident 
in  its  desperate  exertions  to  force  the 
infamous  Lecompton  Constitution  upon 
the  prototinir  people  of  Kansas — in 
construing  the  personal  relation  be 
tween  master  and  servant  to  involve  an 
unqualified  property  in  persons  —  in  its 
attempted  enforcement  everywhere,  on 
land  and  sea,  through  the  intervention 
of  Congress  and  the  Federal  Courts,  of 
the  extreme  pretensions  of  a  purely 
local  interest." 

The  principles  of  the  party  in  regard 


196 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


to  slavery  in  the  Territories,  were  laid 
down  in  the  declarations  "that  the 
new  dogma  that  the  Constitution,  of  its 
own  force,  carries  slavery  into  any  or 
all  the  Territories  of  the  United  States, 
is  a  dangerous  political  heresy,  at 
variance  with  the  explicit  provisions 
of  that  instrument  itself,  with  contem 
poraneous  expositions,  and  with  legis 
lative  and  judicial  precedent ;  is  revolu 
tionary  in  its  tendency,  and  subversive 
of  the  peace  and  harmony  of  the  coun 
try:"  and  "that  the  normal  condition 
of  all  the  territory  of  the  United 
States  is  that  of  freedom ;  that  as  our 
republican  fathers,  when  they  had 
abolished  slavery  in  all  our  national 
territory,  ordained  that  no  person 
should  be  deprived  of  life,  liberty,  or 
property,  without  the  process  of  law,  it 
becomes  our  duty,  by  legislation,  when 
ever  such  legislation  is  necessary,  to 
maintain  this  provision  of  the  Consti 
tution  against  all  attempts  to  violate 
it ;  and  we  deny  the  authority  of  Con 
gress,  of  a  territorial  legislature,  or  of 
any  individuals,  to  give  legal  existence 
to  slavery  in  any  territory  of  the  United 
States." 

Such  were  the  declarations  under 
which  Mr.  Lincoln  was  elected  to  the 
Presidency.  The  legitimate  influence 
of  the  Government,  it  was  designed, 
should  be  exerted  to  give  every  fair 
opportunity  for  the  development  of 
liberty,  and  not,  as  was  charged  upon 
the  Democrats,  for  its  forced  suppres 
sion.  For  the  maintenance  of  these 
views,  it  was  admitted  by  all  who  were 
acquainted  with  him,  that  a  man  of 
singular  plainness  and  sincerity  of  char 
acter  had  been  chosen  for  the  chief 


magistracy.  "  He  is  possessed,"  wrote 
an  intelligent  observer  who  had  studied 
his  disposition  in  his  home  in  Illinois, 
"  of  all  the  elements  composing  a  true 
western  man,  and  his  purity  of  charac 
ter  and  indubitable  integrity  of  purpose 
add  respect  to  admiration  for  his  pri 
vate  and  public  life.  His  word  'you 
may  believe  and  pawn  your  soul  upon 
it.'  It  is  this  sterling  honesty  (with 
utter  fearlessness)  even  beyond  his  vast 
ability  and  political  sagacity,  that  is  to 
command  confidence  in  his  administra 
tion." 

In  February,  1861,  Mr.  Lincoln  left 
his  home  at  Springfield,  on  his  way,  by 
a  circuitous  route  through  the  northern 
States,  to  Washington.  His  journey  at 
the  start  was  impressed  with  the  pecu 
liar  responsibility  of  his  new  position. 
A  defeated  party,  supported  by  the 
haughty  pretensions  and  demands  of 
the  South,  which  even  then  stood  in  an 
attitude  of  armed  rebellion,  was  deter 
mined  to  place  every  obstacle  in  his 
way  which  the  malignity  of  disap 
pointed  political  ambition  could  sug 
gest.  He  felt  that  a  crisis  was  at  hand 
requiring  the  most  consummate  pru 
dence  and  political  wisdom  in  the  guid 
ance  of  the  Ship  of  State.  In  taking 
farewell  of  his  friends  at  the  railway 
station,  at  Springfield,  he  said  with  fer 
vor,  "  no  one  not  in  my  position  can 
appreciate  the  sadness  I  feel  at  this 
parting.  To  this  people  I  owe  all  that 
I  am.  Here  I  have  lived  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century ;  here  my  children 
were  born,  and  here  one  of  them  lies 
buried.  I  know  not  how  soon  I  shall 
see  you  again.  A  duty  devolves  upon 
me  which  is,  perhaps,  greater  than  that 


AlUiAIIAM     LINCOLN. 


197 


which  1i;is  devolved  upon  any  other 
man  since  the  days  of  Washington.  He 
never  would  have  succeeded  except  for 
the  aid  of  Divine  Providence,  upon 
uhich  he  at  all  times  relied.  I  feel  that 
I  cannot  succeed  without  the  same 
Divine  aid  which  sustained  him;  and 
in  the  same  Almighty  Being  I  place  my 
reliance  for  support,  and  I  hope  you, 
my  friends,  will  all  pray  that  I  may 
receive  that  Divine  assistance,  without 
•\\  hicli  I  cannot  succeed,  but  with  which 
success  is  certain.  Again  I  bid  you  all 
an  affectionate  farewell." 

With  this  feeling  of  religious  earnest 
ness,  Mr.  Lincoln,  who  did  not  over 
estimate  the  importance  of  his  position^ 
set  his  face  towards  Washington.  At 
every  stage  on  the  journey  he  took  the 
opportunity,  when  he  was  called  upon 
to  speak,  by  the  citizens,  to  express  his 
determination  to  use  his  influence  and 
authority  equitably  for  the  interests  of 
the  nation,  without  infringement  on 
the  rights  of  any.  "  We  mean  to  treat 
you,"  he  said  at  Cincinnati,  to  an  au 
dience  in  which,  we  may  suppose,  the 
Democratic  party  was  liberally  repre 
sented,  "as  near  a>  we  possibly  can  as 
Washington,  Jefferson,  and  Madi><»n 
treated  \"ii.  We  mean  to  leave  you 
alone,  and  in  no  way  to  interfere  with 
your  institutions ;  to  abide  by  all  and 
every  compromise  of  the  Constitution, 
and  in  a  word,  coming  back  to  the 
original  proposition;  to  treat  you  so  far 
as  degenerate  men,  if  we  have  dege 
nerated,  may,  according  to  the  example 
of  those  noble  fathers,  Washington, 
•iT'on,  and  Madison."  On  the  same 
day,  the  12th  of  February,  in  another 
speech  at  Indianapolis,  he  alluded  to 


the  question  then  pressing  upon  tin- 
country  for  early  solution  regarding 
the  maintenance  of  the  national  autho 
rity  in  a  rebellious  State,  by  force,  it'  it 
should  be  necessary.  An  outcry  had 
been  raised  against  the  "  coercion  "  of 
a  State  ?  He  saw  in  the  clamor,  a 
specious  mask  favoring  a  desperate 
political  intrigue  which  threatened  the 
life  of  the  nation,  and  he  sought  to  st  rip 
off  the  disguise  that  the  reality  beneath 
might  be  seen.  Would  it  be  u  coercion," 
he  asked,  if  the  United  States  should 
retake  its  own  forts,  and  collect  the 
duties  on  foreign  importations.  Do 
those  who  would  resist  coercion  resist 
this  ?  "  If  so  their  idea  of  the  means 
to  preserve  the  object  of  their  great 
affection  would  seem  to  be  exceedingly 
thin  and  airy.  If  sick,  the  little  pilU 
of  the  homceopathist  would  be  much 
too  large  for  them  to  swallow.  In  t  hei r 
view,  the  Union,  as  a  family  relation, 
would  seem  to  be  no  regular  marriage, 
but  rather  a  sort  of  free  love  arrange 
ment,  to  be  maintained  on  passional 
attraction." 

Everywhere  on  his  journey  he  was 
received  with  enthusiasm.  At  iSe\v 
York  he  was  greeted  by  the  Mayor  and 
citizens  at  the  City  Hall  ;  and  at  Phila 
delphia,  on  Washington's  birthday,  he 
assisted  in  raising  the  national  ilag  on 
Independence  Hall.  In  a  few  remarks 
on  the  latter  occasion,  he  spoke  feel 
ingly,  ^ith  a  certain  impression  of  me. 
lancholy,  of  the  great  American  prin 
ciple  at  stake,  promising  to  the  world 
"that  in  due  time,  the  weight  should 
be  lifted  from  the  shoulders  of  all 
men;"  adding,  "if  the  country  cannot 
be  saved  without  giving  up  that  priii- 


198 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


ciple,  I  was  about  to  say,  I  would 
rather  be  assassinated  on  this  spot  than 
surrender  it."  The  word  "  assassination  " 
was  afterwards  noticed  when,  a  day  or 
two  later,  it  was  found  that  the  Presi 
dent,  warned  of  a  plot  to  take  his  life 
on  his  way  to  Washington,  had  felt 
compelled,  by  the  advice  of  his  friends, 
to  hasten  his  journey  by  an  extra  train 
at  night,  to  the  capital,  and  thus  baffle 
the  conspirators.  He  had  been  made 
acquainted  with  the  scheme  on  his  ar 
rival  at  Philadelphia,  by  the  police ; 
and  it  was  after  this  intimation  had 
been  received  by  him  that  he  spoke  at 
Independence  Hall.  He  then  pro 
ceeded  to  keep  an  appointment  with 
the  Pennsylvania  Legislature,  at  Har- 
risburg,  whom  he  met  on  the  after 
noon  of  the  same  day.  At  night  he 
quietly  returned  by  rail  to  Philadel 
phia,  and  thence  to  Washington,  arriv 
ing  there  early  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-third. 

Ten  days  after,  his  inauguration  as 
President  took  place  at  the  Capitol. 
The  usual  ceremonies  were  observed ; 
but  in  addition,  General  Scott  had  pro 
vided  a  trained  military  force  which 
was  at  hand  to  suppress  any  attempt 
which  might  be  -made  to  interrupt 
them.  Happily  its  interference  was  not 
called  for.  The  inaugural  address  of 
the  President  was  every  way  conside 
rate  and  conservative.  He  renewed 
the  declarations  he  had  already  made, 
that  he  had  no  intention  to  interfere 
with  the  institution  of  slavery  in  the 
States  where  it  exists,  adding,  "  I  be 
lieve  I  have  no  lawful  right  to  do  so, 
and  I  have  no  inclination  to  do  so." 
In  a  brief  argument  he  asserted  the 


perpetuity  of  the  Union.  "  It  is  safe 
to  assert,"  he  said,  "  that  no  govern 
ment  proper  ever  had  a  provision  in 
its  organic  law  for  its  own  termination. 
Continue  to  execute  all  the  express 
provisions  of  our  national  Constitution, 
and  the  Union  will  endure  forever,  it 
being  impossible  to  destroy  it,  except 
by  some  action  not  provided  for  in  the 
instrument  itself."  He  therefore  an 
nounced  his  intention,  as  in  duty  bound 
by  the  terms  of  his  oath,  to  maintain 
it.  "  I  shall  take  care,"  said  he,  "  as 
the  Constitution  itself  expressly  enjoins 
upon  me,  that  the  laws  of  the  Union 
shall  be  faithfully  executed  in  all  the 
States.  Doing  this,  which  I  deem  to 
be  only  a  simple  duty  on  my  part,  I 
shall  perfectly  perform  it,  so  far  as  is 
practicable,  unless  my  rightful  masters, 
the  American  people,  shall  withhold 
the  requisition,  or  in  some  authorita 
tive  manner  direct  the  contrary.  I 
trust  this  will  not  be  regarded  as  a 
menace,  but  only  as  the  declared  pur 
pose  of  the  Union,  that  it  will  consti 
tutionally  defend  and  maintain  itself. 
In  doing  this  there  need  be  no  blood 
shed  or  violence,  and  there  shall  be 
none  unless  it  is  forced  upon  the  na 
tional  authority.  The  power  confided 
to  me  will  be  used  to  hold,  occupy  and 
possess  the  property  and  places  belong 
ing  to  the  Government,  and  collect  the 
duties  and  imposts ;  but  beyond  what 
may  be  necessary  for  these  objects  there 
will  be  no  invasion,  no  using  of  force 
against  or  among  the  people  anywhere. 
Where  hostility  to  the  United  States 
shall  be  so  great  and  so  universal  as  to 
prevent  competent  resident  citizens 
from  holding  the  federal  offices,  there 

»j  * 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


199 


will  he  no  attempt  to  force  obnoxious 
strangers  among  the  people  who  ol>jc<-t. 
AVhile  the  strict  Wai  riu'ht  may  exi-4 
of  the  Government  to  enforce  the  ex- 
ercise  of  the  offices,  the  attcni]>t  to  do 
BO  would  be  so  irritating,  and  so  nearly 
impracticable  withal,  thai  I  deem  it 
better  to  forego  for  the  time  the  uses 
of  such  offices.  The  mails,  unless  re 
pelled,  will  continue  to  be  furnished  in 
all  pails  of  the  Union.  So  far  as  pos- 
sible,  the  people  everywhere  shall  have 
that  sense  of  perfect  security,  which  is 
most  favorable  to  calm  thought  and 
reflection.  The  course  here  indicated 
will  be  followed,  unless  current  events 
and  experience  shall  show  a  modifica 
tion  or  change  to  be  proper,  and  in 
every  case  and  exigency  my  best 
discretion  will  be  exercised  according 
to  the  circumstances  actually  existing, 
and  with  a  view  and  hope  of  a  peaceful 
solution  of  the  national  troubles  and 
the  restoration  of  fraternal  sympathies 
and  affections." 

This  disposition  to  effect  a  peaceful 
settlement  of  the  existing  difficulty  was 
further  shown  in  an  earnest  expostula 
tion  or  plea  for  the  preservation  of  the 
endangered  Union,  and  the  admission 
or  declaration  that  "if  a  change  in  the 
Constitution  to  secure  this  result  should 
be  thought  desirable  by  the  people,  he 
would  favor,  rather  than  oppose  a  tail- 
opportunity  to  act  upon  it."  He  had 
no  objection,  he  said,  that  a  pro; 
amendment  introduced  into  Con 
"  to  the  effect  that  the  Federal  Govern 
ment  shall  never  interfere  with  the 
domestic  institutions  of  States,  includ 
ing  that  of  persons  held  to  service," 


should    lie    made  "  express   and    irrevo 
cable."  - 

"  My  countrymen,"  he  concluded, 
"my  countrymen,  one  and  all,  think 
calmly  and  well  upon  this  \\hole  sub 
ject.  Nothing  valuable  can  be  lost  by 
taking  time.  If  there  be  an  object  to 
hurry  any  of  you,  in  hot  haste,  to  a 
step  which  you  would  never  take  deli 
berately,  that  object  will  be  frustrated 
by  taking  time;  but  no  good  object 
can  be  frustrated  by  it.  Such  of  \<>u 
as  are  now  dissatisfied  still  have  the 
old  Constitution  unimpaired,  and  on  the 
sensitive  point  the  laws  of  your  own 
framing  under  it;  while  the  new  ad 
ministration  will  have  no  immediate; 
power,  if  it  would,  to  change  either.  1  f 
it  were  admitted  that  you  who  ai v  dis 
satisfied  hold  the  right  side  in  the  dis 
pute,  there  is  still  no  single  reason  for 
precipitate  action.  Intelligence,  patriot 
ism,  Christianity,  and  a  firm  reliance  on 
Him  who  has  never  yet  forsaken  this* 
favored  land,  are  still  competent  to 
adjust,  in  the  best  way,  all  our  present 
difficulties.  In  your  hands,  my  dis 
satisfied  fellow-countrymen,  and  not  in 
mine,  is  the  momentous  issue  of  civil 
war.  The  Government  will  not  assail 
you.  You  can  have  no  conflict  without 
being  yourselves  the  aggressors.  You 
have  no  oath  registered  in  Heaven  to 
destroy  the  Government ;  while  I  shall 
have  the  most  solemn  one  to  'pre 
serve,  protect,  and  del  end'  it.  I  am 
loath  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies, 
but  friends.  We  must  not  be  enemies. 
Though  pasMon  may  have  strained, 
it  must  not  break  our  bonds  of  affec 
tion.  The  mystic  chords  of  memory, 


200 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN. 


stretching  from  every  battle-field  and 
patriot  grave  to  every  living  heart  and 
hearthstone  all  over  this  broad  land, 
will  yet  swell  the  chorus  of  the  Union, 
when  again  touched,  as  surely  they  will 
be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our  nature." 
In  this  spirit,  the  President  commen 
ced  his  administration.  In  the  following 
month  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter, 
by  the  South  Carolinians  under  General 
Beauregard,  "  inaugurated"  the  war.  On 
receipt  of  the  news  of  its  fall,  President 
Lincoln,  on  the  15th  of  April,  issued 
his  proclamation  calling  for  seventy-five 
thousand  militia,  to  suppress  the  combi 
nations  opposing  the  laws  of  the  United 
States,  and  commanding  the  persons 
composing  the  combinations  to  disperse, 
and  retire  peaceably  to  their  respective 
abodes  within  twenty  days.  Congress 
was,  at  the  same  time,  summoned  to 
meet  in  extra  session  on  the  ensuing  4th 
of  July.  When  that  body  met,  the 
Southern  Confederacy  had  succeeded  in 
arraying  large  armies  in  the  field  for  the 
accomplishment  of  its  revolutionary  de 
signs.  Various  skirmishes  and  minor 
battles  had  occurred  in  Missouri,  West 
ern  Virginia,  and  elsewhere,  and  the 
troops  which  had  been  raised  at  the 
North  were  about  to  meet  the  enemy  in 
the  disastrous  battle  of  Bull  Eun.  The 
President  laid  the  course  which  he  had 
pursued  before  Congress,  calling  upon 
them  for  "  the  legal  means  to  make  the 
contest  a  short  and  decisive  one."  He 
felt,  he  said,  that  he  had  no  moral  right 
to  shrink  from  the  issue,  though  it  was 
"with  the  deepest  regret  that  he  had 
found  the  duty  of  employing  the  war- 
power."  "  Having,"  he  said,  in  the  con 
clusion  of  his  message, "  chosen  our  course 
without  guile  and  with  pure  purpose  let 


us  renew  our  trust  in  God,  and  go  for 
ward  without  fear  and  with  manly  hearts. 
The  story  oi  the  conduct  of  that 
struggle  through  four  years  of  unexam 
pled  sacrifices  by  the  people,  of  unpre 
cedented  trials  to  the  State,  of  a  contro 
versy  of  arms  and  principles  testing" 
every  fibre  of  the  nation,  and  ending  in 
the  vindication  and  reestablishment  of 
the  Union,  belongs  to  History  rather 
than  to  Biography.  But  the  part  borne 
in  the  struggle  by  President  Lincoln  will 
ever  be  memorable.  He  was  emphati 
cally  the  representative  of  the  popular 
will  and  loyal  spirit  of  the  nation.  In 
his  nature  eminently  a  friend  of  peace, 
without  personal  hostilities  or  sectional 
prejudices,  he  patiently  sought  the  wel 
fare  of  the  whole.  Accepting  war  as  an 
inevitable  necessity  he  conducted  it  with 
vigor,  yet  with  an  evident  desire  to 
smooth  its  asperities  and  prepare  the 
way  for  final  and  friendly  reconciliation. 
Unhappily,  the  demands  of  the  South 
for  independence,  and  their  continued 
struggle  for  the  severance  of  the  Union, 
rendered  any  settlement  short  of  abso 
lute  conquest  of  the  armies  in  the  field 
impossible.  To  hasten  this  end,  when 
the  condition  appeared  inevitable,  Pre 
sident  Lincoln,  after  many  delays 
and  warnings,  issued  a  proclamation  of 
negro  emancipation  within  the  rebellious 
States,  on  the  twenty-second  of  Septem 
ber,  1862.  It  was  appointed  to  go  into 
effect — the  States  continuing  in  rebellion 
— on  the  first  of  January  ensuing.  "  All 
persons,"  it  declared,  "held  as  slaves 
within  any  State,  or  designated  part  of 
a  State,  the  people  whereof  shall  then 
be  in  rebellion  against  the  United  States, 
shall  be  thenceforward  and  forever  free ; 
and  the  Executive  Government  of  the 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 


201 


United  States,  including  the  military 
and  naval  authority  thereof,  will  recog 
nize  and  maintain  the  freedom  of  such 
persons,  and  will  do  no  act  or  acts  to 
repress  such  persons,  or  any  of  them,  in 
any  efforts  they  may  make  for  their 
actual  freedom."  This  proclamation,  in 
general  accordance  with  the  action  of 
the  Congress,  was  a  war  measure ;  it 
had  grown  out  of  the  war  as  a  necessity, 
was  promulgated  conditionally  with  an 
appeal  for  the  termination  of  the  war, 
and,  if  destined  to  be  operative,  was  de 
pendent  upon  military  success  for  its 
efficiency.  The  war,  it  was  generally 
admitted,  if  continued,  would  put  an 
end  to  slavery ;  and  as  the  slave  passed 
under  new  social  relations  by  the 
advance  of  the  national  armies,  by  con 
quest,  by  services  rendered  to  the  na 
tional  cause,  and  finally  by  enlistment 
in  the  national  armies,  this  became  every 
day  more  apparent.  The  President's 
proclamation,  the  great  act  of  his  Admi 
nistration,  proved  the  declaration  of  an 
obvious  and  inevitable  result.  Two 
years  more  of  war,  after  it  was  issued, 
of  war  growing  in  malignity  and  inten 
sity,  and  extending  through  new  regions, 
confirmed  its  necessity ;  while  President 
Lincoln,  as  the  end  drew  nigh,  sought 
to  strengthen  the  fact  of  emancipation 
by  recommending  to  Congress  and  the 
people,  as  an  independent  measure,  the 
passage  of  an  amendment  of  the  Consti 
tution,  finally  abolishing  the  institution 
of  slavery  in  the  United  States. 

President  Lincoln,  as  we  have  said,  in 
his  conduct  of  the  war,  steadily  sought 
the  support  of  the  people.  Indeed,  his 
measures  were  fully  in  accordance  with 
their  conviction,  his  resolutions,  waiting 
the  slow  development  of  events,  being 
26 


governed  more  by  facts  than  theories. 
He  thus  became  emphatically  the  execu 
tive  of  the  national  will  ;  his  course 
wisely  guided  by  a  single  view  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  Union  was  in  accord 
ance  with  the  popular  judgment ;  and  in 
consequence,  as  the  expiration  of  his  term 
of  office  approached,  it  became  evident 
that  he  would  be  chosen  by  the  people 
for  a  second  term  of  the  Presidency.  As 
the  canvass  proceeded  the  result  was  hard 
ly  regarded  as  doubtful,  and  the  actual 
election  in  Nov.,  1864,  confirmed  the  an 
ticipation.  Out  of  25  States,  in  which  the 
vote  was  taken  he  received  a  majority  of 
the  popular  vote  of  23 — Delaware,  Ken 
tucky,  and  New  Jersey  for  McClellan.. 

President  Lincoln's  second  Inaugural 
Address  on  the  4th  of  March,  1865,  was 
one  of  his  most  characteristic  State  pa 
pers.  It  was  a  remarkable  expression 
of  his  personal  feelings,  his  modesty  and 
equanimity,  his  humble  reliance  on  a 
superior  power  for  light  and  guidance 
in  the  path  of  duty.  Success  in  his 
great  career,  the  evident  approach  of  the 
national  triumph,  in  which  he  was  to 
share,  generated  in  his  mind  no  vulgar 
feeling  of  elation  ;  on  the  contrary  he 
was  impressed,  if  possible,  with  a  weigh 
tier  sense  of  responsibility  and  a  deeper 
religious  obligation.  "  With  malice  to 
ward  none, "  was  his  memorable  lan 
guage,  "  with  charity  for  all,  with  firm 
ness  in  the  right — as  God  gives  us  to 
see  the  right — let  us  strive  on  to  finish 
the  work  we  are  in — to  bind  up  the 
nation's  wounds — to  care  for  him  who 
shall  have  borne  the  battle,  and  for  his 
widow  and  orphans — to  do  all  which 
may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  last 
ing  peace  among  ourselves,  and  with  all 
nations."  The  peace  so  ardently  longed 


202 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 


for  was  not  far  distant.  On  the  9th  of 
April  General  Lee  surrendered  the  chief 
rebel  army  to  General  Grant,  and  with 
that  event  the  war  was  virtually  ended. 
President  Lincoln  had  been  witness  of 
some  of  its  closing  scenes  at  Richmond, 

O  / 

and  had  returned  to  Washington  in 
time  to  receive  at  the  capital  news  of 
the  surrender.  In  an  address  to  a  ga 
thering  of  the  people  who  came  to  the 
Presidential  mansion  to  congratulate  him 
on  the  result,  he  avoided  any  unseemly 
expressions  of  triumph,  and  turned  his 
thoughts  calmly  to  the  great  problem  of 
reconstruction,  upon  which  his  mind  was 
now  fully  intent.  At  the  close  he  de 
clared,  in  view  of  some  act  of  amnesty 
overtures  of  reconciliation,  that  it  might 
soon  be  his  duty  "  to  make  some  new 
announcement  to  the  people  of  the 
South."  This  speech  was  made  on  the 
evening  of  the  eleventh  of  April.  The 
fourteenth  was  the  anniversary  of  Sum- 
ter,  completing  the  four  years'  period  of 
the  war.  There  was  no  particular  ob 
servance  of  the  day  at  Washington,  but 
in  the  evening  the  President,  accompa 
nied  by  his  wife,  a  daughter  of  Senator 
Harris,  and  Major  Rathbone,  of  the 
United  States  army,  attended  by  invi 
tation  the  performances  at  Ford's  The 
atre,  where  a  large  audience  was  assem 
bled  to  greet  him.  When  the  play  had 
reached  the  third  act,  about  nine  o'clock, 
as  the  President  was  sitting  at  the  front 
of  the  private  box  near  the  stage,  he  was 
deliberately  shot  from  behind  by  an  as 
sassin,  John  Wilkes  Booth,  the  leader  of 
a  gang  of  conspirators,  who  had  been  for 
some  time  intent,  in  concert  with  the  re 
bellion,  upon  taking  his  life.  The  ball 
entered  the  back  part  of  the  President's 
head,  penetrated  the  brain,  and  rendered 


him,  on  the  instant,  totally  insensible, 
He  was  removed  by  his  friends  to  a 
house  opposite  the  theatre,  lingered  in  a 
state  of  unconsciousness  during  the  night 
and  expired  at  twenty-two  minutes  past 
seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  15th. 
Thus  fell,  cruelly  murdered  by  a  vul 
gar  assassin,  at  the  moment  of  national 
victory,  with  his  mind  intent  upon  the 
happier  future  of  the  Republic,  with 
thoughts  of  kindness  and  reconciliation 
toward  the  vanquished  enemies  of  the 
State,  the  President  who  had  just  been 
placed  by  the  sober  judgment  of  the 
people  a  second  time  as  their  represent 
ative  in  the  seat  of  executive  authority. 
The  blow  was  a  fearful  one.  It  created 
in  the  mind  of  the  nation  a  feeling  of 
horror  and  pity,  which  was  witnessed 
in  the  firmest  resolves  and  tenderest 
sense  of  commiseration.  All  parties 
throughout  the  loyal  States  united  in 
demonstrations  of  respect  and  affection. 
Acts  of  mourning  were  spontaneous  and 
universal.  Business  was  everywhere 
suspended,  while  the  people  assembled 
to  express  their  admiration  and  love  of 
the  President  so  foully  slain,  and  to 
devote  themselves  anew  to  the  cause — 
their  own  cause — for  the  assertion  of 
which  he  had  been  stricken  down.  When 
the  funeral  took  place,  the  long  proces 
sion,  as  it  took  its  way  from  Washington 
through  Pennsylvania,  New  York,  Ohio 
and  Indiana,  to  the  President's  home  in 
Illinois  was  attended,  at  every  step,  with 
unprecedented  funeral  honors  ;  orations 
were  delivered  in  the  large  cities,  crowds 
of  mourners  by  night  and  day  witnessed 
the  solemn  passage  of  the  train  on  the  long 
lines  of  railway  ;  a  half  million  of  persons 
it  was  estimated,  looked  upon  the  face 
of  their  departed  President  and  friend. 


LiJ-c&n&ss  from. 

JcTvnson  Fiy  &  Co.  PoblisTiers  NewYbrk 


ANDREW     JOHNSON. 


AMONG  the  many  public  men  in  the 
United  States  who  have  risen  to  dis 
tinction  from  humble  circumstances  by 
industry  and  natural  force  of  character, 
'Andrew  Johnson  of  Tennessee,  by  for 
tune  and  position,  is  certainly  not  the 
least  noticeable.  Born  of  poor  parents, 
in  Ilaleigh,  North  Carolina,  December 
29th,  1808,  he  was  apprenticed  in  his 
boyhood  to  a  tailor,  and  was  engaged 
in  this  occupation  in  South  Carolina 
till  the  age  of  seventeen.  He  subse 
quently  crossed  the  mountains  border 
ing  his  State  on  the  west,  travelling,  it 
is  said,  on  foot  with  his  wife,  and  es 
tablished  himself  at  Greenville,  Ten 
nessee.  Pursuing  there  a  life  of  indus 
try,  working  out,  meanwhile,  by  his 
own  exertions  the  problem  of  educa 
tion — for  he  had  never  attended  school 
— he  prospered  in  the  world,  and  hav 
ing  a  disposition  to  putyic  life,  with  a 
talent  for  speaking,  he  soon  became 
known  as  a  politician.  He  was  elected 
Mayor  of  Greenville  in  1830,  was 
chosen  a  member  of  the  State  Legisla 
ture  in  1835,  and  of  the  State  Senate 
in  1841.  For  ten  years,  from  1843  to 
1853,  he  represented  his  district  in  the 
national  House  of  Representatives ;  in 
the  last-mentioned  year  being  elected 
Governor  of  the  State  of  Tennessee, 
and  again  in  1855.  In  1857,  crowning 


this  rapid  series  of  honorable  political 
promotions,  he  took  his  seat  as  United 
States  Senator  for  the  full  term  ending 
in  1803. 

A  man  of  the  people,  he  represented 
in  the  Senate  the  strongly-nurtured 
democratic  energy  and  instincts  of  the 
West,  identifying  himself  with  its  well- 
fare,  distinguishing  himself  particularly 
by  his  advocacy  of  the  Homestead  Bill, 
which  opened  the  unsettled  territory 
virtually  to  free  occupancy  by  the 
settler.  It  was  not  to  be  supposed 
that  such  a  man,  the  representative  of 
the  free  mountain  region  of  East  Ten 
nessee,  where  his  home  lay,  would 
have  much  sympathy  with  the  great 
Southern  Rebellion.  On  the  contrary, 
he  was,  in  his  seat  in  the  Senate,  one 
of  the  foremost  to  oppose  its  first  mani 
festations.  In  that  memorable  session, 
in  the  closing  months  of  President 
Buchanan's  administration,  when  the 
Southern  members  were  abandoning 

O 

their  posts,  preparatory  to  their  work 
of  treason,  he  stood  unmoved,  strenu 
ously  opposing  every  exhibition  of  dis 
loyalty,  and  calling  resolutely  on  all 
to  maintain  the  Constitution  and  the 
integrity  of  the  Union  as  the  secure 
and  only  basis  gf  popular  rights.  His 
course  was  known  and  marked  by  the 
disloyal  in  his  own  State  and  else- 


2u3 


204 


ANDREW    JOHNSON. 


where.  The  inob  of  Memphis,  during 
this  period,  in  proof  of  their  hostility, 
burnt  his  effigy,  and  at  the  close  of 
the  session  he  was  directly  insulted 
and  threatened  with  violence  at  the 
railway  station,  at  Lynchburg,  Vir 
ginia,  while  on  his  way  homeward 
from  Washington.  Arrived  in  East 
Tennessee,  he  took  part  in  the  Union 
Convention  at  Greenville,  at  the  end 
of  May,  supporting  the  declaration 
of  grievances  which,  in  an  emphatic 
manner,  bore  witness  to  the  loyalty  of 
that  portion  of  the  State.  On  the  19th 
of  June  he  made  a  memorable  speech 
at  Cincinnati,  denouncing,  in  unmea 
sured  terms,  the  iniquity  of  the  Ten 
nessee  Legislature,  in  procuring,  con 
trary  to  the  expressed  will  of  the 
people,  an  alliance  with  the  Southern 
Confederacy.  In  glowing  language  he 
summoned  all,  without  regard  to  old 
party  considerations,  to  come  to  the 
support  of  their  common  country,  and 
"  crush,  destroy,  and  totally  annihilate  " 
the  spirit  of  secession,  as  an  influence 
utterly  hostile  to  all  religious,  moral, 
or  social  organization.  "  It  is,"  said  he, 
"  disintegration,  universal  dissolvement, 
making  war  upon  everything  that  has 
a  tendency  to  promote  and  ameliorate 
the  condition  of  the  mass  of  man 
kind." 

In  the  extra  session  of  Congress  in 
July,  he  reiterated  these  sentiments  in 
an  eloquent  speech  in  the  Senate,  char 
acterizing  the  war  upon  which  the 
country  had  entered  as  a  struggle  for 
the  very  existence  of  the  Government 
against  internal  foes  and  traitors.  "  It 
is  a  contest,"  said  he,  "  whether  a  people 


are.  capable  of  governing  themselves  or 
not.  We  have  reached  that  crisis  in 
our  country's  history,  and  the  time  has 
arrived  when,  if  the  Government  has 
the  power,  if  the  people  are  capable 
of  self-government,  and  can  establish 
this  great  truth,  that  it  should  be 
done."  Nothing  discouraged  by  the 
recent  disaster  to  the  national  army  at 
Bull  Run,  he  exclaimed  on  this  occa 
sion,  at  the  close  of  a  masterly  review 
of  the  political  situation  of  the  country, 
after  calling  on  the  Government  to 
redouble  its  energies  in  the  field,  "  We" 
must  succeed.  This  Government  must 
not,  cannot  fall.  TJiough  your  flag 
may  have  trailed  in  the  dust  let  it  still 
be  borne  onward ;  and  if  for  the  prose 
cution  of  this  war  in  behalf  of  the 
Government  and  the  Constitution,  it  is 
necessary  to  cleanse  and  purify  the 
banner,  let  it  be  baptized  in  fire  from 
the  sun  and  bathed  in  a  nation's  blood. 
The  nation  must  be  redeemed ;  it  must 
be  triumphant." 

In  the  months  which  followed,  Sena 
tor  Johnson  rendered  eminent  service 
by  his  speeches  and  influence  to  the 
national  cause.  At  length,  in  the 
spring  of  1862,  the  Union  victories  in 
Tennessee  having  resulted  in  the  mili 
tary  occupation  of  Nashville,  his 
patriotism  was  rewarded  by  the  ap 
pointment,  with  the  rank  of  brigadier- 
general  of  volunteers,  of  military  Gover 
nor  of  Tennessee.  He  immediately,  in 
March,  1862,  entered  upon  the  duties 
of  this  office,  which  he  has  continued  to 
discharge,  through  many  vicissitudes  of 
public  affairs,  with  firmness  and  discre 
tion. 


AMM;I:\V  JOHNSON. 


205 


At  the  meeting  of  the  National  Con 
vention  of  the  Republican  party,  which 
a«rmbled  at  Baltimore  on  the  7th  of 
June,  1804,  Andrew  Johnson  was  no 
minated  for  Vice  President  on  the  ticket 
with  President  Lincoln.  The  nomina 
tion  was  well  received  by  the  party— 
for  the  principles  and  steadfastness  of 
Governor  Johnson  had  been  fully  tried 
in  his  private  station  and  in  office  du 
ring  the  war ;  and  the  success  of  the 
ticket,  as  the  canvass  proceeded,  was  re 
garded  as  a  matter  of  certainty  previously 
to  the  election  in  November.  Simulta 
neously  with  the  inauguration  of  Presi 
dent  Lincoln,  at  his  entrance  on  his  se 
cond  term  of  office  on  the  4th  of  March 
1865,  the  oath  of  office  was  administered 
to  Vice-President  Johnson,  in  the  Senate 
Chamber.  He  remained  in  Washington, 
and  was  one  of  the  eminent  heads  of  the 
Government  marked  out  by  the  assassin 
Booth  and  his  fellow  conspirators  to  be 
murdered  at  the  development  of  their 
fiendish  plot  in  April,  on  the  anniversary, 
of  the  attack  upon  Fort  Sumter.  Nar 
rowly  escaping  this  fate  by  the  timidity 
or  reluctance  of  the  person  to  whom  his 
murder  was  assigned,  he  was,  on  the 
instant,  at  the  immediate  fatal  termina 
tion  of  the  wound  inflicted  upon  Presi 
dent  Lincoln,  called  to  be  his  successor  in 
office.  Notified  of  this  event,  and  sum 
moned  to  the  performance  of  his  new 
duties  by  the  members  of  the  Cabinet, 
the  oath  of  office  as  President  was  admi 
nistered  to  him  by  Chief  Justice  Chase, 
in  the  forenoon  of  the  fourteenth  of 
April,  a  few  hours  after  President  Lin 
coln's  decease,  at  his  rooms  at  the  Kirk- 
wood  House,  in  Washington.  After  re 
ceiving  the  oath,  and  being  declared 


President  of  the  United  States,  Mr. 
Johnson  remarked  to  the  members  of 
the  Cabinet  and  others  present :  "  I 
must  be  permitted  to  say  that  I  have 
been  almost  overwhelmed  by  the  an 
nouncement  of  the  sad  event  which  has 
so  recently  occurred.  I  feel  incompetent 
to  perform  duties  so  important  and  re 
sponsible  as  those  which  have  been  so 
unexpectedly  thrown  upon  me.  As  to 
an  indication  of  any  policy  which  may 
be  pursued  by  me  in  the  administration 
of  the  Government,  I  have  to  say  that 
that  must  be  left  for  development  as  the 
Administration  progresses.  The  message 
or  declaration  must  be  made  by  the  acts 
as  they  transpire.  The  only  assurance 
that  I  can  now  give  of  the  future  is 
reference  to  the  past.  The  course  which 
I  have  taken  in  the  past  in  connection 
with  this  rebellion  must  be  regarded  as 
a  guarantee  of  the  future.  My  past 
public  life,  which  has  been  long  and 
laborious,  has  been  founded,  as  I  in 
good  conscience  believe,  upon  a  great 
principle  of  right,  which  lies  at  the 
basis  of  all  things.  The  best  energies  of 
my  life  have  been  spent  in  endeavoring 
to  establish  and  perpetuate  the  princi 
ples  of  free  Government,  and  I  believe 
that  the  Government,  in  passing  through 
its  present  perils,  will  settle  down  upon 
principles  consonant  with  popular  right, 
more  permanent  and  enduring  than 
heretofore.  I  must  be  permitted  to  say, 
if  I  understand  the  feelings  of  my  own 
heart,  I  have  long  labored  to  ameliorate 
and  elevate  the  condition  of  the  great 
mass  of  the  American  people.  Toil,  and 
an  honest  advocacy  of  the  great  princi 
ples  of  free  government,  have  been  my 
lot.  The  duties  have  been  mine — the 


•206 


ANDREW   JOHXSON. 


consequences  are  God's.  This  has  been 
the  foundation  of  my  politfcal  creed.  I 
feel  that  in  the  end  the  Government  will 
triumph,  and  that  these  great  principles 
will  be  permanently  established.  In 
conclusion,  gentlemen,  let  me  say  that  I 
want  your  encouragement  and  counte 
nance.  I  shall  ask  and  rely  upon  you 
and  others  in  carrying  the  Government 
through  its  present  perils.  I  feel  in 
making  this  request  that  it  will  be 
heartily  responded  to  by  you  and  all 
other  patriots  and  lovers  of  the  rights 
and  interest  of  a  free  people." 

At  this  moment,  as  an  indication  of 
his  views,  a  recent  speech  of  Johnson 
was  recalled  which  he  delivered  in 
Washington  at  the  beginning  of  April, 
when  news  of  the  capture  of  Richmond 
was  received  at  the  capital.  "  You 
must  indulge  me,"  said  he  on  that  oc 
casion,  "  in  making  one  single  remark  in 

'  O  O 

connection  with  myself.  At  the  time 
the  traitors  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States  plotted  against  the  Government, 
and  entered  into  a  conspiracy  more  foul, 
more  execrable  and  more  odious  than 
that  of  Cataline  against  the  Romans,  I 

O  7 

happened  to  be  a  member  of  that  body, 
and,  as  to  loyalty,  stood  solitary  and 
alone  among  the  Senators  from  the 
Southern  States.  I  was  then  and  there 
called  upon  to  know  what  I  would  do 
with  such  traitors,  and  I  want  to  repeat 
my  reply  here.  I  said,  if  we  had  an 
Andrew  Jackson  he  would  hang  them 
as  high  as  Haman.  But  as  he  is  no 
more,  and  sleeps  in  his  grave  in  his  own 
beloved  State,  where  traitors  and  treason 
ave  even  insulted  his  tomb  and  the 
very  earth  that  covers  his  remains, 
humble  as  I  am,  when  you  ask  .me  what 
I  would  do,  my  reply  is,  I  would  arrest 


them ;  I  would  try  them ;  I  would  con 
vict  them,  and  I  would  hang  them.  As 
humble  as  I  am  and  have  been,  I  have 
pursued  but  one  undeviating  course. 
All  that  I  have — life,  limb  and  pro 
perty — have  been  put  at  the  disposal  of 
the  country  in  this  great  struggle.  I 
have  been  in  camp,  I  have  been  in  the 
iield,  I  have  been  everywhere  where 
this  great  rebellion  was ;  I  have  pur 
sued  it  until  I  believe  I  can  now  see  its 
termination.  Since  the  world  began 
there  never  has  been  a  rebellion  of  such 
gigantic  proportions,  so  infamous  in 
character,  so  diabolical  in  motive,  so 
entirely  disregardful  of  the  laws  of 
civilized  war.  It  has  introduced  the 
most  savage  mode  of  warfare  ever  prac 
ticed  upon  the  earth. 

"  I  will  repeat  here  a  remark,  for 
which  I  have  been  in  no  small  degree 
censured.  What  is  it,  allow  me  to  ask, 
that  has  sustained  the  nation  in  this 
great  struggle  ?  The  cry  has  been,  you 
know,  that  our  Government  was  not 
strong  enough  for  a  time  of  rebellion  ; 
and  in  such  a  time  she  would  have  to 
contend  against  internal  weakness  as 
well  as  internal  foes.  We  have  now 
given  the  world  evidence  that  such  is 
not  the  fact ;  and  when  the  rebellion 
shall  have  been  crushed  out,  and  the 
nation  shall  once  again  have  settled 

O 

down  in  peace,  our  Government  will 
rest  upon  a  more  enduring  basis  than 
ever  before.  But,  my  friends,  in  what 
has  the  great  strength  of  this  Govern- 

O  ~ 

ment  consisted?  Has  it  been  in  one- 
man  power  ?  Has  it  been  in  some  auto 
crat,  or  in  some  one  man  who  held 
absolute  government  ?  No !  I  thank 
God  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  proclaim 
the  great  truth  that  this  Government 

O 


AM»I;I-:\V  JOHNSON. 


LMI7 


has  derived  its  strength  from  the  Amer- 
j>->ple.  They  have  issued  the 
;  they  have  exercised  the  power 
that  has  resulted  in  the  overthrow  of 
the  rebellion,  and  there  is  not  another 
Government  upon  the  face  of  the  earth 
that  could  have  withstood  the  shock. 
We  can  now  congratulate  ourselves  that 
we  possess  the  strongest,  the  freest 
and  the  best  Government  the  world 
ever  saw. 

"Thank  God  that  we  have  lived 
through  this  trial,  and  that,  looking  in 
your  intelligent  faces  here,  to-day,  I  can 
announce  to  you  the  great  fact  that 
Petersburg!!,  the  outpost  of  the  strong 
citadel,  has  been  occupied  by  our  brave 
and  gallant  officers,  and  our  untiring, 
invincible  soldiers.  And  not  content 
with  that  they  have  captured  the  citadel 
itself,  the  stronghold  of  the  traitors. 

O 

Richmond  is  ours,  and  is  now  occupied 
by  the  forces  of  the  United  States ! 
Death  to  the  conspirators — clemency  to 
their  victims.  One  word  more,  and  I 
have  done.  It  is  this :  I  am  in  favor  of 
leniency ;  but  in  my  opinion,  evildoers 
should  be  punished.  Treason  is  the 
highest  crime  known  in  the  catalogue 
of  crimes ;  and  for  him  that  is  guilty  of 
it — for  him  that  is  willing  to  lift  his  im 
pious  hand  against  the  authority  of  the 
nation — I  would  say  death  is  too  easy  a 
punishment.  My  notion  is  that  treason 
must  be  made  odious,  that  traitors  must 
be  punished  and  impoverished,  their 
social  power  broken,  though  they  must 
be  made  to  feel  the  penalty  of  their 
crimes.  Hence  I  say  this — the  halter 
to  intelligent,  influential  traitors.  But 
to  the  honest  boy,  to  the  deluded  man, 
who  has  been  deceived  into  the  rebel 
ranks,  I  would  extend  leniency.  I 


would  say,  return  to  your  allegiance, 
renew  yoiir  support  to  the  Government 
and  become  a  good  citizen ;  but  the 
leaders  I  would  hang.  I  hold,  too,  that 
wealthy  traitors  should  be  made  to  re 
munerate  those  men  who  have  suffered 
as  a  consequence  of  their  crimes — Union 
men  who  have  lost  their  property,  who 
have  been  driven  from  their  homes,  beg 
gars  and  wanderers  among  strangers. 
It  is  well  to  talk  about  things  here  to 
day,  in  addressing  the  well-informed 
persons  who  compose  this  audience. 
You  can,  to  a  very  great  extent,  aid  in 
moulding  public  opinion  and  giving  it 
proper  direction.  Let  us  commence  the 
work.  We  have  put  down  these  traitors 
in  arms ;  let  us  put  them  down  in  law. 
in  public  judgment  and  in  the  morals  of 
the  world." 

In  the  spirit  of  these  declarations 
President  Johnson,  shortly  after  his  in 
auguration,  addressed  Governor  Oglesby 
of-  Illinois,  and  a  number  of  eminent 
citizens  of  the  State  as  well  as  other 
delegations  from  the  East  and  West. 
To  the  expressions  of  sympathy  and 
confidence  by  Gov.  Oglasby  he  replied  : 
"To  an  individual  like  myself,  who  has 
never  claimed  much,  but  who  has,  it  is 
true,  received  from  a  generous  people 
many  marks  of  trust  and  honor,  for  a 
lonor  time,  an  occasion  like  this,  and  a 

O  '  ' 

manifestation  of  public  feeling  so  well- 
timed,  are  peculiarly  acceptable.  Sprung 
from  the  people  myself,  every  pulsation 
of  the  popular  heart  finds  an  immediate 
answer  to  my  own.  By  many  men  in 
public  life  such  occasions  are  often  con 
sidered  merely  formal.  To  me  they  are 
real.  Your  words  of  countenance  and 
encouragement  sink  deep  in  my  heart ; 
and  were  I  even  a  coward  I  could  not 


208 


ANDREW   JOHNSON. 


but  gather  from  them  strength  to  carry 
out  my  convictions  of  the  right.  Thus 
feeling,  I  shall  enter  upon  the  discharge 
of  my  great  duty  firmly,  steadfastly,  if 
not  with  the  signal  ability  exhibited  by 
my  predecessor,  which  is  still  fresh  in 
our  sorrowing  minds.  Need  I  repeat 
that  no  heart  feels  more  sensibly  than 
mine  this  great  affliction.  In  what  I 
say  on  this  occasion,  I  shall  indulge  in 
no  petty  spirit  of  anger,  no  feeling  of 
revenge.  But  we  have  beheld  a  notable 
event  in  the  history  of  mankind.  In 
the  midst  of  the  American  people,  where 
every  citizen  is  taught  to  obey  law  and 
observe  the  rules  of  Christian  conduct, 
our  Chief  Magistrate,  the  beloved  of  all 

O  * 

hearts,  has  been  assassinated  ;  and  when 
we  trace  this  crime  to  its  cause,  when 
we  remember  the  source  whence  the  as 
sassin  drew  his  inspiration,  and  then 
look  at  the  result,  we  stand  yet  more 
astounded  at  this  most  barbarous,  most 
diabolical  assassination.  Such  a  crime 
as  the  murder  of  a  great  and  good  man, 
honored  and  revered,  the  beloved  and 
the  hope  of  the  people,  springs  not  alone 
from  a  solitary  individual  of  ever,  so 
desperate  wickedness.  We  can  trace 
its  cause  through  successive  steps,  with 
out  my  enumerating  them  here,  back  to 
that  source  which  is  the  spring  of  all 
our  woes.  No  one  can  say  that  if  the 
perpetrator  of  this  fiendish  deed  be  ar 
rested,  he  should  not  undergo  the  ex- 
tremest  penalty  the  law  knows  for 
crime  ;  none  will  say  that  mercy  should 
interpose.  But  is  he  alone  guilty  ? 
Here,  gentlemen,  you  perhaps  expect 


me  to  present  some  indication  of  my 
future  policy.  One  thing  I  will  say. 
Every  era  teaches  its  lesson.  The  times 
we  live  in  are  not  without  instruction. 
The  American  people  must  be  taught— 
if  they  do  not  already  feel — that  treason 
is  a  crime  and  must  be  punished ;  that 
the  Government  will  not  always  bear 
with  its  enemies ;  that  it  is  strong,  not 
only  to  protect,  but  to  punish.  When 
we  turn  to  the  criminal  code  and  exam 
ine  the  catalogue  of  crimes,  we  there 

O 

find  arson  laid  down  as  a  crime  with  its 
appropriate  penalty ;  we  find  there  theft, 
and  robbery,  and  murder,  given  as 
crimes;  and  there,  too,  we  find  the  last 
and  highest  of  crimes — treason.  With 

O 

other  and  inferior  offences  our  people 
are  familiar;  but  in  our  peaceful  his 
tory  treason  has  been  almost  unknown. 
The  people  must  understand  that  it  is 
the  blackest  of  crimes,  and  will  be  sure 
ly  punished.  I  make  this  allusion,  not 
to  excite  the  already  exasperated  feel 
ings  of  the  public,  but  to  point  out  the 
principles  of  public  justice  which  should 
guide  our  action  at  this  particular  junc 
ture  and  which  accord  with  sound  pub 
lic  morals.  Let  it  be  engraven  on  every 
heart  that  treason  is  a  crime,  and  trai 
tors  shall  suffer  its  penalty.  While  we 
are  appalled,  overwhelmed  at  the  fall  of 
one  man  in  our  midst  by  the  hand  of  a 
traitor,  shall  we  allow  men — I  care  not 
by  what  weapons — to  attempt  the  life 
of  the  State  with  impunity?  While 
we  strain  our  minds  to  comprehend  the 
enormity  of  this  assassination,  shall  we 
allow  the  nation  to  be  assassinated  ?" 


M, 


14  DAY  USE 

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